The Devil's Got Your Tongue
by AlexWayne
Summary: (Western AU) Geralt, a wild west bounty hunter is contracted to find a powerful man in the mysterious town of Gullet. With the help of old and new friends, he must track down the elusive target. In this town, danger lurks behind every corner, and nothing, not even those closest to Geralt are what they seem, and he will be forced to face his own moral code to protect those he loves.
1. New In Town

Jeremy adjusted the saddle bags on his horse quickly, flicking his eyes left and right to be sure he hadn't been followed. He was going to have to be quick if he would make it to the river before sundown. The words on the letter he received that morning still hung fresh in his mind. A shiver ran down his spine, shaking him to the core. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, praying for his nerves to calm. Putting one foot in the sturrup, he moved to mount when suddenly he felt cold metal poke into his back between his ribs.

"Thought you could sneak off, huh?" sneered a raspy voice.

Jeremy's mouth dried at once, and with shaking hands he let go of the saddle, putting his raised foot back down on the dirt.

"I was just…" Jeremy began, turning to face his accuser.

"You were just," mocked the raspy man's partner, "Don't lie. He knew you would try to run before he could collect. Which is why we are here."

The two dirty men smirked at the look of terror on Jeremy's face. He couldn't stop trembling and found the knot in his throat almost impossible to speak around. He knew he had to, though, it was his only chance.

"Please...can't we work something out? I'll give you whatever you want."

The raspy man laughed, baring a set of brown cracked teeth, "You sound like 'im, only, I actually can expect 'im to keep his promise."

His partner smirked, nodding his head in agreement.

Jeremy could feel his eyes brimming with tears. "You've made a deal with the devil. He'll trick you like he tricked me. Please let me go. I beg of you!"

"Rules are rules, Jeremy," the partner explained casually, "It's time to pay up."

Jeremy looked around frantically. At the edge of town, he was not within a distance that screaming for help would do any good, but scream he would. Opening his mouth, his eyes caught sight of a pale figure on a horse, creeping along from the direction of the river.

The rider kept his head down, eyes hidden below a large black hat. His duster billowed along the sides of his horse, a beautiful chestnut taking long proud strides. The pair of villains didn't notice the rider, for despite the boisterous gate of his steed, he traveled silently. Only when he was nearly upon the scene did he slowly lift his head.

Jeremy's call for help was snuffed out the moment he locked eyes with the stranger. The man under the hat had a ghastly visage. The first thing to draw Jeremy's attention was the rider's light and haunting eyes. They were almost hidden under a mop of shaggy hair white as a mountain cap. The hair curled under the brim of the hat, stopping just below the man's ears. From beneath the fringe to the end of his cheek, crossing over his eye was a ragged scar, completing the impression that this man was a harbinger of death. His eyes almost seemed to glow in the shade of his hat, and did not dim as his eyes narrowed.

Jeremy was certain this man would kill him before the pair had their chance, or perhaps Jeremy was already dead, and this pale rider was the reaper come to take him home.

"What's going on here?" the stranger asked in a low husky voice.

The assassins were taken aback by this man, but his menacing appearance didn't seem to daunt the men from completing their task.

"Piss off, nobody, this isn't your business!" the raspy man retorted. His partner didn't look as confident.

"I said," began the stranger, "What is going on here?"

Jeremy could see a belt along the stranger's waist, flanked by two guns. The man's hand rested on the gun on his left. His right hand remained on the reins.

 _If he's got two guns, he better use them. There's two of_ them _!_

"And I said," the raspy man began, raising his gun to point at the stranger.

Before he could finish, his partner drew his gun and fired at Jeremy.

The blast struck his shoulder, sending him flying to the side. As his feet left the ground, a second gunshot rang through the air, and a third accompanied the thud of Jeremy's body hitting the ground. The wind was knocked from Jeremy's body and he felt the pain in his arm overwhelm him. His vision swirled before his eyes.

Suddenly, the pale rider came into view. He was off his horse and crouching down to look into Jeremy's face.

"The bullet passed though your upper arm and is in your chest. You'll need a surgeon to take it out. Is there a surgeon in your town?"

Jeremy blinked confusedly.

"Am I dead?"

"You will be if we don't get you to town. Give me your arm, stand up."

Jeremy couldn't feel his body, but his perspective was suddenly righted and he floated toward the horses, being half carried by the stranger. It was then Jeremy could see the two would-be killers on the ground, blood pooling from under the heads. The stranger pulled Jeremy onto his horse and grabbed the reins of Jeremy's horse before hopping on behind Jeremy.

With a click of his tongue, the stranger signaled his horse and they were off, racing back towards the town Jeremy had hoped to escape. The townsfolk that normally paid Jeremy no mind took in the pair trotting into the square. A few let out startled gasps, but Jeremy was unsure if it was due to the threat of death clinging to him, or the air of death about the man holding him upright in the saddle. A broad woman carrying a sack from the general store let out a yelp at the sudden appearance of the rider and dropped her bag, making no motion to pick it back up again.

"Surgeon," the stranger barked, "Which way?"

The woman's maw remained open, leering at the pair in shock and curiosity.

"Which way?"

"Dr. Godefroy," the woman replied, coming to her senses and pointing, "Next to the jail."

The stranger raced off, following the direction of the woman's plump digit. The jail didn't take long to find. The "town" of Gullet was much more akin to a row of hen houses than a bustling metropolis. No more than a dozen buildings made up the main street, and the only readily identifiable structures were a church, a crumbling jailhouse, and a saloon blazoned with the words "The Foxy Den" in large red letters. The town, as the stranger came to realize, was aptly named, for the buildings sat in the shadow of a gorge. High above the peak of the church stood the stark cliffside, looming down over the town. On the other side of the main street, the high curtain of rock parted into a slim pathway that led deeper into the mountains. Indeed, it was as if the town was being swallowed into the chasm brick by brick. By the looks of the jailhouse, the mountain had nearly finished its meal.

The stranger leapt from his horse and in a swift maneuver, pulled Jeremy down gently to the ground. Jeremy's legs buckled, but the stranger was strong, holding him upright proved no challenge. Together they walked to the little shack of a building next to the jailhouse. On the other side of the gloomy structure stood the gallows. The wooden structure looked pristine.

 _Clearly_ , thought the stranger with a shake of his head, _they have their priorities in order._

Bursting through the door, the pair were greeted by the curious glance of a man standing by a desk. Medical supplies were laid out across a canvas on the desk and the man had an apron tied around his waist. He looked unsurprised at their sudden intrusion-contrarily, he appeared to have expected them.

"Jeremy," the doctor replied softly, "Unfortunate to see you like this."

The man was tall and slender, his grey-black hair was slicked behind his ears and met a striking pair of mutton chops. His eyes were dark but kind, and he moved toward Jeremy with a gentleness that was rare to find in this part of the world anymore. His slender fingers moved over Jeremy's arm and chest, feeling out the injuries of the man. The doctor's eyes narrowed in concentration, and his brow furrowed as he grew more concerned.

"A bullet is lodged between his second and third ribs," he commented, "I can't tell if the lungs have been brutalised or not. If the bullet hadn't passed through your arm, you'd be dead already."

For now, the doctor ignored the stranger and got to work, laying Jeremy down on a long wooden table draped with a sheet, washed many times, but still stained with the losses of patients before. The stranger stood by the desk, leaning silently again the edge and folding his arms across his chest patiently.

The doctor worked quietly and calmly, moving with a fluidity and rhythm of a dancer. His tools worked quickly but tenderly, and in a matter of minutes, the bullet was pulled from the wound and landed with a clatter in a jar at the foot of the table. The stranger stood up and walked over to the doctor. Despite the man's calm, the stranger could tell the doctor believed himself to be defeated.

As if answering the question, the doctor lifted up Jeremy's hand which was beginning to turn bluish along the fingertips. "Can you hear it?" the doctor asked. Jeremy had lost consciousness during the operation and now his breathing was ragged and laboured. Needing to compensate, the sleeping man drew in a deep breath and a gurgling echoed from behind his teeth.

"His lungs," the stranger replied.

Nodding, the doctor sighed, "I can maybe drain some of the fluid, but he's already losing too much oxygen. Even with the drained lung, I don't know if there was shock damage to his heart or other lung. His best case scenario at this point is a few days struggling to breathe. He may come to, but for his sake I hope not. The end won't be pretty. I fear at this point, whatever bastard shot the poor man would have done him a better favor having completed his task."

The stranger nodded, hooking his thumbs into his belt. The doctor's eyes were drawn to the belt and took in the buckle in the middle. The head of a wolf was baring his teeth from the stranger's midriff.

"Can you make it quick?" the stranger asked.

The doctor's eyes snapped up to the stranger's, and it was the first time that the doctor took in the man's appearance. The question had been blunt and his voice was cold, but the doctor could see genuine concern in the pale eyes of the stranger. A pair of guns, a belt of bullets slung over the shoulder and chest, and a hat black as night, under which shone cat-like piercing eyes.

 _Yes_ , thought the doctor, _costume of a killer, a layered man beneath; how interesting._

"Yes," the doctor replied aloud, "A mix of chemicals on a rag before his nose and mouth should do the trick. He'll drift off."

The stranger nodded, crossing his arms again.

The doctor turned back to his patient, mixing up the concoction and applying it to the rag. He let out a sigh and placed the rag on Jeremy's face. Though he didn't hear him, the doctor could feel the stranger leave his office.

Outside, the stranger dug into Jeremy's saddle bags, rummaging around for anything that might clue him in to the situation. Deep in the second bag was a crumpled paper. The stranger pulled it open. It contained only one sentence:

 _Dues need to be repaid-and he will come for you._

The stranger sighed and ripped up the paper, letting the pieces fall to the ground.

"When you asked me to put him out of his misery," a voice behind him began, "I thought perhaps he was a friend of yours. Did you know Jeremy well?"

The stranger turned around and saw the doctor pulling the door shut behind him. He was no longer wearing the apron, and instead had shrugged on a jacket, buttoning it up over his waistcoat.

"No," the stranger replied, "I just met him at the edge of town."

"Mm," the doctor hummed, "You rode like death itself was nipping at your heels."

"For him it was."

"Mm," the doctor replied again, nodding.

Slowly he strode up to the stranger and extended a long bony hand.

"Welcome to Gullet," he replied dryly.

The stranger shook his hand, letting out a little huff of a laugh, "Indeed."

"I didn't catch your name."

"Geralt," the stranger replied, "I appreciate what you did, Dr. Godefroy."

The doctor smiled warmly, "Please, call me Regis. Only those of unpleasant company I insist to call me Dr. Godefroy."

Geralt let out a snort, "I don't often get assumed for pleasant company, and a woman back thataway called you Godefroy."

"I see. Broad shorter woman? Small child in tow?"

"Broad short woman yes, but not with child."

Regis nodded thoughtfully. "Must have left Jemima a moment's peace, I see. That woman is Mrs. Conesta. Vile woman, really."

He shook his head as if deciding something, "At any rate, we shall have to decide what sort of company you might be. Have you any place to stay?"

"I figured I would just camp at the edge of town."

"Nonsense, we can find you accomodations."

Geralt raised a hand to wave off the offer, but was interrupted by the doctor.

"I insist," Regis added, stepping closer.

Geralt opened his mouth to speak, then stopped, contemplated, then narrowed his eyes.

"Why the sudden interest in helping?"

"Well," Regis began with a friendly smile, "You're new to town. You don't know how this town operates."

"And?"

"And…" Regis's smile faded as he slipped his hands into his pockets, "We've not had an unnatural death in over a year in this town. It just so happens to occur when you arrive."

"I didn't kill Jeremy."

"Then I assume there are bodies that need recovering. I say again-there has been no unnatural deaths in a year. I don't believe you did want Jeremy dead, but I also surmise whatever he was killed for had to do with you."

Geralt said nothing.

Regis quirked a brow.

"I'm looking for someone," Geralt confessed.

"Who?"

"I can't tell you. I don't want anyone else getting involved."

Regis huffed before pointing to Geralt's waist. "I assume those twin pistols aren't for show. Your business may be your own, but the moment you start dispatching souls in this town, the bodies left behind become my business."

"I don't just go around shooting people."

"Ah, a bounty hunter with morals."

"Something like that."

Regis sighed glumly and slung a satchel over his shoulder, resting a hand on the strap across his chest. He was weighing his options, and testing Geralt.

"Fine. I won't ask who it is you're after, but I want to help. I'd prefer the fewest casualties. Not many people come to this town. We're limited in number as it is."

Geralt wanted to protest, but the doctor was probably right. This man seemed to know a lot about the residents. He could prove useful.

"Who is the sheriff in this town?"

Regis turned up his nose, "His name is Reuven. If you had it in mind to enlist his help, you'd be wasting your time. He doesn't take kindly to newcomers, he detests bounty hunters, and he likes to control all that goes on in this town."

"I'll keep that in mind. No, I hadn't planned for his help, just wanted to know how big of a thorn he'll be in my side."

"Are you familiar with the Honey Locust tree?"

"That big?" Geralt huffed before turning to face the edge of the town, back the way he had come in. "Three hundred yards that way, you'll find a sickly tree..."

"I assume the tree is not what I will be meant to focus on."

"Two men are lying under that tree."

"I'm very happy for the both of them."

"Dead."

"I assumed as much."

Geralt untied the reins of Jeremy's horse from the post and handed them to Regis.

"Will Sheriff Reuven ask questions about them?"

"Not if he doesn't know about them."

Geralt nodded slowly, still unsure about trusting this man. And yet, something almost unquestioningly compelled him to.

"Again…" Geralt began, looking into the tall doctor's dark, almost black eyes. "Why do you want to help me?"

Regis bit his lip, gripping the strap of his satchel absentmindedly. He was deciding whether or not to risk saying something, and caution appeared to be losing out.

"Because," Regis replied softly, a warning, "I don't think you have any idea what you are getting yourself into."


	2. Into The Fox's Den

Geralt pushed open the doors to the saloon, expecting to be met with gazes of apprehension and loathing. None came. The audience was captivated by a performance taking place on the stage. Strutting in a billowing black dress was a thin young woman with rippling locks of blazen-red hair pulled up high on her head. Her bright green eyes, highlighted by freckles, danced from side to side as deftly as she did. Holding a long note, those emerald eyes found Geralt and stopped, drinking him in.

None of the patrons cared where her eyes were, as they were enraptured with another of her features, but Geralt suddenly felt as though a spotlight had been shown on him. Moving into the room, he tipped his hat in her direction then turned away, heading for the bar and putting his back to the stage.

The singer's attention lingered on the newcomer, but as the piano struck a jangly part of the tune, she grinned and spun, bellowing out the next note to the pleased roar of her audience. Geralt ordered a whisky and found a seat at the bar. All of the stools were either empty or missing, as all of the patrons wanted the closest seat they could get to the stage without being up with her. Sipping the drink, Geralt scanned the faces of the patrons. Up near the front of the crowd, rousing the drunken mass in a slurred attempt to sing along was a fresh-faced young man in a brightly-colored fringe jacket. His white hat was tipped to the side in a cocky fashion, and a large feather strapped under the band threatened to fly off into the throng. After a few more strums of his banjo, the young man stood up from his stool and raised his arm, prompting a roar from the audience and a thunderous applause.

Singer and accompanists bowed to the crowd and waved, showered by offers of drinks, and for the young woman: proposals of marriage. The banjoist was eating up the attention, while the redhead made her way slowly, and not without obstructions, through the crowd toward the bar. Suddenly Geralt and the fringe-clad young man made eye contact, and the younger grinned from ear to ear.

"Geralt!" he yelled, making a beeline through the crowd.

Though the redhead began her trek to the bar much sooner, the banjoist reached Geralt immediately. The two men embraced and laughed in greeting.

"When you didn't get here by noon I expected to not see you until tomorrow," the banjoist explained, clapping Geralt on the back.

"Good to see you, Dandelion."

"Good to see you too! Have you met Triss?"

Dandelion scanned the audience then let out an 'aha' before plunging into the crowd and pulling the redhead away from a meaty man insisting that he would leave his wife for her. Suddenly the singer was before Geralt, and she smiled, blushing slightly.

"Ma'am," Geralt replied with a nod.

"Geralt, this is Triss Merigold. Owner of this swanky little joint."

Geralt looked around and whistled, impressed.

"It's not much, but it gives a girl a leg up," Triss replied with feigned nonchalance.

"It's a nice place."

"It really isn't, but the whisky is good and cheap, and the men are always thirsty."

"They sure _are_ ," agreed Dandelion, quirking a brow at a severely drunk man leering at Triss, mouth open and drool staining his shirt.

"What brings you to Gullet?" Triss asked politely, circling the bar and relieving the bartender of a bottle of whisky. She topped off Geralt's glass, then poured a generous glass for herself.

"Business."

"Dandelion tells me you're a bit of a gunslinger."

Geralt shot a look at Dandelion, who was pretending to be preoccupied with adjusting the strings of his banjo.

"That so?" Geralt asked, turning his eyes back to Triss, "Afraid he's been embellishing."

"Oh?" Triss countered, "Well that's too bad." She downed her whisky and began pouring another before motioning for Geralt to have more.

She poured him another glass and he raised it in a toast. She returned the gesture before Dandelion slapped his glass down on the bar for her to refill.

"Use your words, poet," she quipped.

"Oh, fair rouge-crowned enchantress, please bless me-"

"Enough," Geralt cut in, shaking his head. "How do you two know each other?"

Dandelion and Triss both looked at one another and laughed.

"God, how do we know each other?" Triss asked, snorting.

"You don't remember? I'm hurt, Merigold."

"We go way back," Triss informed Geralt, filling their glasses again.

"We met at this lodge," Dandelion began, "I was traveling from town to town at the time. The circus life didn't suit me. So I broke off from the pack-"

"Was kicked out," Triss corrected.

"We had creative differences and I felt it high time for me to go solo."

"Mm," Geralt and Triss hummed in mock agreement.

"Anyway," continued the banjoist, "There's this town up north called Broken Bridge and it snows relentlessly. So, this blizzard is coming-"

Triss leaned on her elbow and stared at Geralt, not listening much to what the poet had been saying.

"So I'm trying to find somewhere that will let me in, but they all think I'm a tax collector-" Dandelion continued, glancing at a man who had approached the bar and taken an interest in the story.

"You've known Dandelion long?" Triss asked Geralt.

"Too long."

"He's a good man," she laughed, shaking her head at Dandelion as he gained an audience for his tale "So if not a gunslinger, what is it you do?"

Geralt picked up his glass and took another sip, "I'm meeting a business partner. We invest in cattle."

Triss nodded, interested. "Much need for dual pistols in cattle investing?"

Geralt swallowed, "I'm still new to the trade."

Triss laughed, waving her hand, "Don't worry. You don't have to tell me what it is you're doing here. A friend of Dandelion's is a friend of mine."

"Thank you."

"-up to my ass in snow, and she _bursts_ out laughing," Dandelion was saying, "I ask if I can come in, and she says no! What am I meant to do?"

"Plan to stay long?" Triss asked hesitantly.

"No, I don't expect to be here long. Just a few days and then I'll be back on the trail."

Geralt could sense conflict in the redhead's expression. His response seemed to trigger both sadness and a bit of relief. Her polite smile was more of a pained grimace. Geralt was used to people counting the minutes until he left their town, but this was different. Rather than outright hostile, both the singer and the doctor seemed cautiously concerned. Geralt couldn't help feeling like a burden weighed on both. He would have to talk to Dandelion about it alone later that night.

Suddenly the saloon doors opened and a familiar face appeared.

Geralt stood at once, excusing himself from the bar, and strode quickly toward the door, whisky glass in hand, up to where the good doctor waited.

Regis gave a friendly smile and wave to one of the drunken patrons who had been waving frantically, hoping to catch the doctor's eye.

"Did you find our friends?" Geralt asked.

"Reid Griggs and Marshall Hennis."

"'Marshall?'"

"His _name_ was Marshall. He was no more a lawman than I am Queen of England."

Geralt took a sip of whisky, slightly relieved.

"Marshall was easier to identify, but not by much," Regis continued, "It appears you didn't leave much to _be_ identified. He had a long scar across his neck that I had stitched myself. Griggs was carrying a letter with his name on it. At any rate, the pair rarely went about their business without the other."

"Any idea who sent them?"

Regis was quiet a moment as his eyes found Dandelion and Triss, who were staring back.

"Perhaps we should have a drink?"

Geralt moved to block Regis's path to the bar, "You know who sent them, don't you?"

It wasn't really a question.

"I have a few theories," Regis replied quietly.

"You _know_ who sent them."

Regis gave a tired pleading look at Geralt, "I hope I'm wrong."

"I don't. You know who I'm after."

"I _could_ be wrong."

"You're not," Geralt shook his head slowly, meeting Regis's eye. "You went out in broad daylight to get rid of two bodies because you know _exactly_ who sent them."

Regis shifted from foot to foot, looking over his shoulder at the door before turning his attention back to Geralt, "If you have the sense to know why I would help you, then I'd pray you have the sense to leave it alone. You're out of your depth here, bounty hunter."

Geralt opened his mouth to protest but the doctor was not finished.

"Listen carefully: go back to your friends, have another drink. Hell, have ten. Get inebriated, sing songs of home, be merry with the townsfolk. Sleep it off in the saloon. For in the morning, I'd advise you to get back on your horse and ride out of this town, and don't plan to visit again."

Geralt took another sip of his whisky before clearing his throat and asking, "Is that all?"

Regis replied with a slightly pained smile, "I'm glad to have met you, and I hope to not cross paths again."

The bounty hunter raised his glass and the doctor replied with a nod, turned on his heel, and left the saloon.

Geralt stood a moment, swirling the contents of his glass before returning casually to the bar. Dandelion licked his lips as he mulled over the questions to ask Geralt. Triss smiled pleasantly at Geralt's return, but knew she should interject quickly before any more decisions were made that night.

"I have an open room," she began, sliding a key across the bar towards Geralt's glass. "Free of charge to friends."

She assumed he would protest, but was pleasantly surprised to see him take the key.

"Why not?" he sighed, "As I said, I don't expect to be here long."

Triss nodded slowly, and Dandelion grinned, satisfied in the arrangement.

As the night began to die down, patrons slowly filed out of the bar, until only a few drunkards remained. One man was asleep, face down on a table, another was crying to his friend about not wanting to go home. That pair staggered out of the bar, taking the only noise left with them. The saloon doors stopped swinging with a squeak, and suddenly, all was quiet. Dandelion yawned and gathered up his hat and banjo, making for the stairs. Triss was gathering up glasses when Geralt caught her eye.

"Anything I can help with?"

She shook her head, laughing a bit, "No, I just have a few more things to clean up before I turn in. Your room is next to Dandelion's. If you need anything, my room is in the back downstairs," she added, nodding toward a dark paneled door to the left of the bar.

Geralt nodded, turning to follow Dandelion.

"Geralt," Triss called suddenly.

The bounty hunter turned around, and could see that same strange apprehension in her eyes again. She wanted to tell him something, but the fear and hesitation that was so evident in her demeanor held her tight in a vice grip.

"I'm...I'm glad you're here," she managed. "We should talk more tomorrow night. Since you're so enamored by cattle, will you meet me at Jefferson's farm? Around six?"

"Where is that?"

"Ask Dandelion. He'll know where to send you."

Geralt nodded and Triss nodded back, cleaning a glass vigorously.

"Goodnight." She turned her back to him and placed bottles back on their appropriate shelves once again.

Geralt headed for the stairs, taking them slowly and pausing to look back at the saloon owner in her agitated state. He shook his head and made for his room.

Finding the door that opened with his key, he reached over and knocked on the door next to his. The bright banjoist pulled the door open sharply and smiled, "Everything all right? Triss seems to like you."

"She wants to talk tomorrow."

Dandelion wiggled his eyebrows, "Oh?"

"She wants me to meet her at Jackson's Farm."

The smile faded from Dandelion's face, and he stepped back from the door, urging Geralt to come in. When the bounty hunter was in, Dandelion shut the door quietly and ran to his window, peeking out quickly before turning back to Geralt.

"She made me promise not to tell anyone, but it seems like she wants you in on the plan."

Geralt tensed, "What plan?"

"The people here are trapped. She wants to help them escape."


	3. My Dear Friend Jeremy

Geralt stood in front of a squat little house, taking in the details of the home. The little building leaned slightly to the side and was adorned in vines. A large tree in the front yard cast a shadow over the abode, but the shade wasn't the only looming darkness here. The front door was locked, unsurprisingly, and the thick oak didn't seem inclined to budge. The bounty hunter circled around to the back of the home and found a thinner door and with a strong kick, the door burst open. Geralt looked around, but on the large swath of land, he was too far away from the nearest neighbor to draw attention. Striding into the home, he thought back to last night.

X

"She wants to do what? Escape from what?"

"I don't know, she wouldn't tell me either," Dandelion began, "Someone is in charge around here, and it isn't the sheriff. What I've gathered is some man is controlling things from behind the scenes. Pulling strings and the like. Triss says he has dirt on them and everyone owes this guy something."

"'Dues need to be repaid-and he will come for you,'" Geralt said quietly.

"What?"

"A note Jeremy had in his saddle bags."

"Jeremy?" Dandelion raised a brow, "Jeremy Sturgess?"

"I didn't catch his last name. Brown hair, nervous disposition, yea high," Geralt explained with the raise of his arm.

"He's the only Jeremy in town," Dandelion shrugged.

"Well, now there are no Jeremys in town."

Geralt took a seat on a stool placed near Dandelion's bed. Dandelion's eyes were wide in bewilderment. He swallowed lightly and took off his hat, placing it over his heart.

"Did you-"

"No, Dandelion, I didn't kill him. Two men did. On the edge of town. Reid Griggs and Marshall Hennis."

"Well, you killed _them_ I'm sure."

Geralt didn't answer, he only pulled a letter from his pocket and unfolded it, reading the contents again.

X

Inside the house, Geralt's eyes adjusted to the dark, and he took in the surroundings. The furniture was overturned and various objects were strewn about the floor. The pieces of a smashed vase crunched under Geralt's boot. Turning to the left, he stepped through the doorway into a bedroom, equally in disarray as the rest of the home. The drawers of a desk were pulled out and papers were scattered about the room. Geralt crossed slowly to where the papers were and rifled through them, reading snippets of the contents. The back of a picture frame was visible under the edge of the bed. Carefully picking it up and turning it over, Geralt was met with the stony face of Jeremy Sturgess, but he was not alone. Seated next to Jeremy, his hand on her shoulder, was a woman about Jeremy's age. She had kind bright eyes. Her radiance was not dimmed by the grainy photograph. Studying the photo, Geralt concluded that it had been taken at least a number of years ago.

"Where is she, Jeremy?" Geralt asked aloud, setting the photo down gently on the desk.

Geralt glanced over the room again, then moved to leave, but a long scratch in the wood floor caught his eye. It extended from the base of a bookcase, which remained upright. The scratch was faint, but unmistakable to Geralt. Stepping over piles of Jeremy's possessions, he reached the bookcase and gripped the shelves. With two great heaves, he pulled the case forward and peeked in the space between the structure and the wall. An envelope was pressed in the space, covered in dust. The envelope crinkled in Geralt's hands. It was old, and little tears in the edges of the flap suggested it had been opened and closed many times, the contents changing with time.

It was stuffed full of papers. As Geralt thumbed through them, most of the papers were letters of love and longing, addressed to a "Selena." They spoke of missing home, missing her, and the last few asked her to forgive him. The final paper in the stack was a letter not of Jeremy's penmanship.

The letter was a dark parchment, old and stiff, and smelled like decay. Peeling it open gently, Geralt was surprised to see bright red ink displaying swooping letters. Geralt lowered his nose to the parchment and inhaled slowly. The ink was not ink, but was also surprisingly not blood. No, the letters had a sweet smell that wafted from the paper, contrasting the grim scene of the paper. It was wine.

 _Jeremy,_

 _I've been told you were attempting to go against our agreement. You know what would happen if you did such a thing. I would hate to see our little arrangement meet a bitter end. You know me, I'm not an unreasonable man. Come talk to me. We can see if this matter can't be resolved like gentlemen._

 _You know where to find me._

 _M.M._

Geralt stared at the letter and let out a sigh.

X

 _WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE_

 _Gaunter O'Dim_

 _Alias: Master Mirror_

The wanted poster's list of crimes spanned the rest of the page. The writer hardly had room left for the labeling of the reward, which was hefty, but perhaps not enough for a criminal so decorated.

"Who is it you're looking for?" Dandelion asked, breaking the silence.

Geralt folded the poster and slipped it back into his pocket. "It's better for you not to know."

Dandelion nodded, then placed his hands on his hips, puffing out a breath of air, "I suppose once you have your man you won't stick around, huh?"

"No. I'd suggest you leave to while you still can. If there's inner politics, you don't want to get caught up in them."

Dandelion shifted from foot to foot, not meeting Geralt's gaze.

"You're not caught up in this are you?"

"Well," Dandelion began, "Yes and no. I've not met the man in question, but Triss and I are old friends, and I want to help."

"Dandelion," Geralt replied sharply, "Do not get tangled up in this. Gamblers, loan sharks, they sink their claws into towns and will not let anyone between them and their money. If you want to help her, give her a loan or something."

Dandelion's eyes flicked to the door, then back to Geralt, and he lowered his voice, "I'm not so sure it's money they owe him."

"Whatever it is, do not get mixed up in this. I mean to be here no more than two days. When that time is up, leave town with me."

"What about your meeting with Triss?"

"I'll meet her, but I plan to tell her that I can give her some money or speak on her behalf to a bank, but skipping town without paying your debts doesn't solve anything. Someone always comes to collect."

X

"Someone always comes to collect," Geralt whispered, taking one last look at Jeremy's house before heading back to his horse. As he reached the post, a handful of horsemen came barreling down the road. The leader pulled his horse to a halt and glared down at Geralt.

"What are you doing here? This is private property."

"Paying my respects," Geralt replied slowly, "I was told Jeremy had died."

"He was murdered," the leader, a skinny man with a bristly mustache, began, "His death and his belongings are under investigation."

The other two riders dismounted and walked toward Geralt.

"Just wait a minute," Geralt began, raising his hands.

"You can explain it to the sheriff. I don't wanna hear it!"

The pair moved toward Geralt, but he reached for his gun. The leader drew his gun immediately, pointing it at Geralt, "Don't even think about it!

"I was moving to disarm myself."

"We'll take care of that, thank you."

Geralt raised his arms above his head, and watched the pair clumsily take his guns out of the holsters. They placed his arms behind his back and cuffed his wrists. They then grabbed the reins of his horse and led him on the long trek back to town. One of the men was beet red and heaving his breaths, winded from the walk back. Geralt's breathing was even and calm. The journey didn't tire him, but it had certainly wasted precious time.

As he was led into the jailhouse, one of the men took pleasure in shoving him into a cell after roughly taking the cuffs off.

"Wait here while we talk to the Sheriff," the leader barked.

"Could you make it quick? I have evening plans."

The trio left without a word, slamming the door of the jailhouse shut.

Geralt removed his pocket watch that the men didn't see fit to relieve him of. It was half past four. He hoped he wouldn't miss his meeting with Triss. The deputies had done a poor job of searching Geralt for other weapons, and he felt the place he kept a knife hidden, in case he needed it later.

An hour had passed and there were still no sounds of approaching feet outside the door. He was beginning to grow impatient and contemplated escaping and facing the consequences later when heavy steps stomped toward the door and pulled it open. Geralt stood, pressing himself against the bars to get a good look at who had approached.

A tall portly man with beady eyes entered, glaring at Geralt. A sheriff badge was pinned to his vest, and his broad belly pushed against his belt. The closer he got to the bars, the bigger Geralt came to realize this man. He stood over a head taller than Geralt, and at the very top of that head was a shiny, hairless peak.

"I'm Sigi Reuven, Sheriff of Gullet, and your potential executor, should I see fit," the large man barked.

Geralt quirked a brow, unperturbed by the threat, "Executed for paying respects to an old friend?"

"Friend indeed. Jeremy didn't have friends. Not in this town, nor any other. I've heard about you."

Sheriff Reuven leaned in close, "A bounty hunter. People call you The White Wolf. Supposed to have a higher kill count than any other bounty hunter in the West. Said you specialize in the 'odd' cases, whatever the hell that means."

Geralt shrugged, resigned, "I can't deny my reputation precedes me, but I'm not here on official business. Was just passing through, then stayed a bit longer when I heard an old acquaintance had passed."

"A likely story. Passed _more_ likely of your own doing."

"I didn't kill Jeremy. Could I have done something to prevent his passing, I would have."

Sheriff Reuven's eyes narrowed further, but he didn't counter Geralt's statement. Instead, he turned his attention to Geralt's twin pistols.

"Not often you see a gunslinger with two guns," the sheriff went on, "Especially not two different ones." The sheriff popped open the chamber and pulled out a bullet from one of the guns and held it up to the light. It's pale coating shimmered brightly, casting a sparkle on the wall. "And _especially_ not one loaded with silver bullets."

Geralt sighed and leaned against the bars of his cage, "It's for hunting werewolves."

The sheriff eyed Geralt suspiciously, then when Geralt formed a small smile, the sheriff let out a laugh.

"You're a cheeky bastard, I give you that. 'Werewolves' he says…" Sheriff Reuven replied, putting the bullets back in and closing the gun. "I tell you what, Wolf," he added, "Everyone seems convinced you only mean to stop by to rest before you carry on to wherever the hell you're headed…"

Geralt straightened up.

"Well," Reuven continued, "Almost everyone. I expect you out of my town by tomorrow night. You've paid your respects, you've had your fun, now you're to leave. If I catch a whiff of anything funny, you're right back here and _you_ won't catch a whiff of fresh air until you take a stroll to the gallows. Am I clear?"

"Crystal."

Sheriff Reuven nodded, lost in thought for a moment, before walking up to the cell and unlocking it. Geralt gathered his belongings and exited the building, relieved to back outside. Waiting on the steps was Dandelion, smiling sadly at Geralt.

"Thanks for bailing me out," Geralt replied, clapping Dandelion on the back in appreciation. Geralt re-holstered his weapons and the pair began walking quickly, eager to get away from the jailhouse.

"Don't thank me, I didn't know where you were. Sheriff Reuven didn't plan to reach out to anyone to see if they knew you. Dr. Godefroy saw them dragging you into the jail and sent for me immediately. He also spoke to Sheriff Reuven for you, said you were visiting the house on his request, to help you cope with the loss of a dear friend."

Geralt smiled lightly, making a mental note to thank the doctor as soon as he could. Pulling out his pocket watch, he noted the time.

6:22

He was late.

"Dandelion, I have to go, I need to meet Triss."

"Do you remember what I told you, or do you need it repeated?"

"Don't repeat it, and make sure no one follows you back. Go to the saloon and stay there."

"Why? What's going on? Are you still telling her you can't help?"

"No. Do as I say."


	4. Loose Lips May Sink Ships

Chapter 4: Loose Lips May Sink Ships

Geralt dismounted from his horse and began to lead her quietly through the woods. His senses were heightened in the dimming light, and he listened and looked for any signs that he was being followed. Slowly he crept through the underbrush until he arrived at a clearing. The debris of a little burned down cottage sat, slowly being swallowed by the foliage that had crept up the wood and stone in the years since it has been abandoned. Triss was nowhere to be seen.

Geralt dropped to a knee and touched the grass that had been flattened by small boots. One set was small and light, barely folding the grass beneath the gait, another set of prints was heavy and wide. Someone else had been here recently. Geralt began to grow nervous when he saw a brick of the ruins jutting out at a strange angle. The mortar between the bricks was long gone, and the brick did not fit neatly in the space.

With a light tug, he was able to remove the brick and reveal a small letter. Glancing around to make sure no curious eyes peered out from the brush, he unfolded and read the letter.

 _Someone followed me here. If you're in, tell me the name of your favorite flower._

X

Geralt entered the Foxy Den, a bouquet of wildflowers in hand. Dandelion perked up at the sight of the bounty hunter, and prompted a man to scoot down a stool at the bar. Geralt took a seat and listened to the end of a performance by Triss.

"For me?" Dandelion asked with a nod to the flowers.

Geralt shot him a look and placed the flowers on the bar before calling the bartender over for drinks.

Right on time, the song wrapped up, and Triss waved off the calls for an encore. Sauntering up to the bar, she smiled warmly at Geralt.

"What do you have there?"

"For the lady," Geralt replied, handing her the bouquet. "I prefer lilacs, but they don't seem to grow around here."

Triss took the flowers and breathed the scent in deeply, not taking her eyes from the man.

"I greatly appreciate the gesture," she told him, nodding in conclusion.

She circled the bar, pouring herself a glass before taking a seat next to the men. "What are you boys going to be up to tonight?"

Geralt looked around the bar and noticed the eyes that fell on their party.

"I hoped to have a night out, just spend some time with Dandelion. We have a lot to catch up on."

Triss nodded again, taking in his words, "It was a shame we didn't get to chat more ourselves, but I'm sure we'll find some time."

She held out her hand to be kissed. Geralt looked at her in surprise, but obliged, taking her hand in his and kissing below the knuckles. Suddenly her hand relaxed and a small piece of paper fells from her hand into his. Geralt raised his head and nodded, tipping his hat forward. "Until next time."

Triss sauntered away, drawing the eager eyes from the bar and focused on her as she made her rounds.

Geralt turned back to the bartender and caught his attention.

X

Geralt and Dandelion sat around a fire on the edge of town, their backs to a cemetery and flanked on two sides by the edge of a deep forest. The logs they were perched on were surrounded by numerous bottles the pair had purchased from the bar before making their way for the picnic. They talked softly about what Dandelion knew about town, which wasn't much. Before long, the conversation turned to what each of them had been up to since last they spoke.

Dandelion shared his various romantic exploits, and the almost certain violent aftermaths, usually at the hand of the woman's spouse, but almost as often from the woman herself. Geralt gave minor details of some of his recent contracts, detailing mainly the towns he visited and the old acquaintances he either had the privilege or misfortune of meeting again.

After a while, a tall shadowy figure appeared along the road, taking slow silent steps. Dandelion tensed immediately, but Geralt knew in an instant the identity of the newcomer.

"Glad you could make it," Geralt called to the man.

"I appreciate the invitation," Regis replied, coming into view. "I brought some wine, but it appears my contribution will be meager."

"Nonsense," Dandelion chimed in, "The more the merrier, for both booze and company."

Regis took a seat around the fire and placed the bottle of wine at the edge of the log.

"It appears you are not so eager to be on your way," Regis added, quirking a brow at Geralt.

"No," Geralt replied, uncorking a bottle of vodka, "I mean to stay a bit longer."

Regis nodded solemnly.

"Thank you," Geralt began, "For sending for Dandelion."

"No bother. I saw you were in a bit of trouble and did what any decent citizen would do."

"I've been told this town isn't exactly full of decent citizens."

"As much as any town, I suppose," the doctor replied, not taking the bait.

It was Geralt's turn to nod. Silence hung over them a moment, before Geralt handed a bottle of vodka to Regis and clinked it with his own.

"Cheers," Regis replied in a friendly chirp before taking a swig of his drink.

The trio continued where Geralt and Dandelion left off, sharing tales of the old days, reminiscing about adventures, and expressing the desire to see old friends again. Regis mostly kept to himself, but interjected commentary here and there on Geralt and Dandelion's stories. Geralt, wanting to get more out of the mysterious man, continuously plied him with liquor. Eventually, Regis started to lighten up.

"I'm just saying," Regis defended, "You could have stood to be a bit more polite."

Dandelion, bewildered, looked to Geralt for support. "Do you believe this? More polite? He threw his drink at me! I only hit him with the plate after he threw the drink."

"You were sleeping with his wife," Geralt chimed in.

Dandelion pursed his lips and the other two waited in silence as the banjoist throught through what next to say. "Okay, you've got me there."

The trio burst out laughing, and Dandelion reached for his banjo, strumming and belting out loudly, "Oh sheeeeee's a fine lady, a fine lady indeed, fair maiden, sweet darling, ride me like a steed!"

Geralt reached over and clamped a hand on the neck of the instrument, stopping the sound at once. Dandelion and Regis laughed while Geralt shook his head reproachfully, trying not to laugh as well.

Dandelion conceded and set the instrument down, taking up a bottle instead.

Geralt sat back and set his sights on Regis, who was stifling the urge to keep laughing. He curled his fist in front of his mouth, keeping his lips pressed firm in an effort to get his laughter under control.

"What brought you to this town?"

Regis's laughter died down, and he took in a steadying breath, "I...felt it was time for a change of scenery."

Geralt knew he wasn't telling the whole truth, but could tell the statement wasn't a whole lie either.

Dandelion shivered and looked over his shoulder at the cemetery and grimaced.

"Sure picked a creepy spot to hang out," he mused.

"I wanted to stay somewhere the townsfolk might not venture out toward late at night."

"This isn't the part of town where people worry about spirits manifesting," Regis warned.

"Ha!" Dandelion laughed, "Superstitious?"

Regis paused, looking out over the woods, his eyes and ears focusing in on the dark.

"Do I believe there are things out there more fearsome than I? Yes."

Regis seemed to be staring off into space, lost in thought, so Geralt nudged Dandelion, who perked up and drew in a deep breath.

"We should play a drinking game!"

Regis turned and pulled a face.

"It'll be fun! We could play Lies or Truth, Never Have I…" Dandelion went on.

"What are those games?" Regis asked.

Dandelion, already drunk, let out an exasperated sigh. "Lies or Truth is where you say a statement and we have to guess if it's a lie or a truth. If we guess right, you have to drink. If we guess wrong, we have to drink. Never Have I is where you say something you've never done, and if we've done it, we take a drink. And on and on."

Regis was ready to protest, but could see the look of challenge in Geralt's eyes, and made up his mind.

"All right, you've won me over," Regis replied, picking up a bottle of wine. "Which game?"

"Truth or lie," Geralt piped up, picking up a half-empty bottle of vodka.

"Who shall go first?"

"Me," Dandelion interjected, standing up with some difficulty.

"You know you don't have to stand.." Geralt began, raising a hand to stabilize Dandelion if he fell.

"I," Dandelion began, drawing out the word, "Am of noble birth."

"Lie," Regis chimed in immediately.

"Drink, bitch," Dandelion quipped, drawing a look of surprise from Regis.

He turned to Geralt for support, but the bounty hunter only shrugged.

"'Fraid it's true," Geralt explained.

"Incredible," Regis replied, swallowing a long sip of his drink.

"Your turn," Dandelion added, retaking his seat with a loud thud.

Regis turned to Geralt, "Do I have to stand up?"

"No."

"Okay," Regis paused, thinking up a statement, "I am an only child."

"Truth," Geralt replied immediately.

"That obvious?" Regis laughed, taking another long drink.

"I've been to every state," Geralt declared.

"True!"

"Drink."

"Ugh. How many have you got left?" Dandelion asked, frustratedly sipping his drink.

"One."

"I have slept with over 300 women," Dandelion announced.

Regis's brows went to his hairline, and Geralt began counting on his fingers.

"I…" Regis began carefully, "I want to say 'false,' but now I'm not so sure…how old are you?"

"Thirty-two."

"Lie. Drink."

"That one doesn't count, Geralt!"

Regis shook his head in amazement. "I don't know. True?"

"Final answer?"

"Sure."

"It's false. Drink."

Regis laughed, drinking the end of his wine.

"I'm flattered you thought it was real, though. Nah, it's probably more like 200."

"Lie. Drink," Geralt chimed in again, earning a punch in the arm.

"Whose turn is it?"

"Mine," Regis replied, "Afraid I'm not terribly good at this game."

"Lie, drink," Geralt added with a smirk.

Regis's eyes narrowed. This was a challenge.

"I've worked in medicine for over 30 years."

"False!"

"True," Geralt added.

"Geralt, I guessed first. You can't guess after me. False!"

Regis smirked, "It's true."

"What?!" Dandelion was enraged, "It can't be true! Thirty years? Horseshit!"

"It's true."

"Whatever, I'm not drinking. I don't play drinking games with liars and cheaters."

Regis and Geralt laughed, "Those are the only people you play with," Geralt added.

Dandelion shot Geralt a look and begrudgingly took another drink, some of the booze spilling down his front. He let out a belch, then motioned for the others' attention. "We should play never have I, now."

"Fine. Never have I jumped out of a lover's window."

"That's not fair!" Dandelion whined, taking a small sip. "Never have I killed someone!"

Geralt gave an annoyed glance at Dandelion, but caught Regis taking a sip of his drink. Dandelion and Geralt looked at their comrade in surprise.

"Regis?"

"Well, technically I killed Jeremy by putting him out of his misery," he explained nervously.

Geralt paused a moment, "Killed anyone else?"

"I think it's my turn," Regis replied politely, "Never have I killed anyone outside of medical mercy."

"Lie, drink," Geralt replied calmly.

Regis and Geralt locked eyes, but Dandelion shook his head.

"Guys, we're mixing up the rules of the games…"

Geralt stayed staring at Regis, but Regis let out a breath and raised his bottle to his lips.

Geralt followed suit. "You can imagine the scenario for me," he added "What was yours?"

Regis paused a moment as he thought, but he decided to come clean. "There's been a few. I didn't run with the best of people. I killed someone. Not a day goes by I don't regret it."

"The others?"

"A man was brought to me once. He was badly burned. He had raped a young girl, and in the struggle a lamp was knocked over. In his blind lust and rage he didn't notice the fire spreading. He was pretty badly burned, but he'd live, certainly."

"And?"

"He took a rather sudden turn for the worse in my care. The last was in self defense. I regret that one as well."

Geralt nodded.

Dandelion sat stiff as a board, waiting to see what Geralt's response would be.

"I've killed for less," Geralt finally concluded, handing Regis another bottle.

Dandelion relaxed and went back to drinking, but Regis was still a bit on edge. He accepted the bottle and took another sip, but kept an eye on Geralt, who had gone back to the game.

"Never have I...refused to pay a debt," he resumed.

Dandelion rolled his eyes and slobbered down another drink. Regis didn't drink. Geralt quirked a brow in his direction.

"I'm a man of my word," Regis explained with a shrug.

Geralt nodded, raising his glass to him.

"Never have I," Dandelion slurred.

"Known when to quit," Geralt quipped.

"No...and if that was my statement, you'd be right there with me…no, never have I fallen for someone and not told them."

"You could stand to tell a few less people of your interest."

"Never have I fallen for someone and not told them!" Dandelion repeated loudly.

Geralt rolled his eyes and laughed, but watched Regis take a bashful sip.

Geralt's gut tightened slightly and a silence started to hang over the trio. The night was late, and all three were sufficiently drunk. Geralt was beginning to grow disappointed. He could tolerate alcohol much more effectively than the average person, but Regis was toe to toe with him, perhaps even less visibly inebriated.

Dandelion let out a yawn and plopped to the grass, "I'm just...just gonna lay here. Keep playing."

"Never have I been in love before," Regis added.

Dandelion lazily reached for an overturned bottle on the grass, but his attempts grew more and more feeble.

Geralt made no move to drink, and shrugged when Regis gave him a questioning look.

"Not much room for love in my work, ya know?" Geralt replied. "I'm on the road all the time. If the distance wasn't the problem, the job sure is."

Regis nodded, "Why did you get into it in the first place? Are you happy doing it?"

Geralt shrugged and slid off the log and onto the grass, bracing his back with where he had been sitting, "I got into it because I was good at it. I was taken under another hunter's wing as a kid. He taught me what I know. He taught me how to survive. How to earn money for myself. Never really known anything else."

"Surviving and living are not always the same thing," Regis added softly, "It took me a while to learn that."

Geralt turned his head slowly, "Why did you leave where you lived before?"

"Do you mean where I lived most recently? Or the time before that? Or the time before _that_?" Regis replied with a bitter laugh.

"Did you leave, or were you asked to leave?"

"Both sometimes. Sometimes I got tired of the ways of one place. Or was unwelcome in another. Sometimes difference just gets...stamped out."

Geralt nodded, knowing all-too-well that feeling.

"It's hard sometimes," Geralt agreed, "Always being on the outside looking in."

Regis nodded sadly. He slid off of his seat into the grass too, settling in close to Geralt.

"Sometimes I think that desire to belong is a good thing, but maybe it's a relic of an old way of looking at the world. That now there is disconnect and searching for our place only opens us up to exploitation," Regis explained, pulling bits of grass from the dirt.

"You made a pact with the devil, Regis."

Regis looked at Geralt, who handed him a folded up piece of paper. Regis took it carefully and unfolded it. In Triss's handwriting, a paragraph of deep blue ink came into focus in the firelight.

 _Everyone in this town has made a deal with Master Mirror. He promised us all something and in return, we owed him a favor. By favor, he means eternal servitude, and eventually our souls. We all thought the problems we faced in the world were the worst thing we could experience, but it was nothing compared to being trapped in his little town, stuck as his playthings._

 _We all owe him, he will collect from all of us, unless we find a way to get away from him. There are others in the town that want to escape. We are many, we just need to strike at the right moment._

Regis read the words before folding the note carefully and handing it back to Geralt without a word.

Geralt threw the letter into the fire and continued looking at Regis.

"She's asked for my help, and I said I would help her. He's who I'm after, but this has gotten bigger than just a simple contract. If I get him, I get my contract, and everyone can go free. No more Gullet."

Regis laughed sadly, "He'll kill you or worse, he can't be stopped. I've been here a long time, and I know he doesn't have weaknesses."

"Everyone has weaknesses."

Regis opened his mouth to protest, but catching Geralt's eyes, he stopped and slowly closed his mouth again.

After an eternity, he looked away.

"Perhaps this is incredibly selfish of me, but I don't want to leave," Regis breathed out. "I've made peace with my deal. I cannot expect the same of others, as I do not know their situations, but for me, the result is justified."

"You'd rather be prisoner here?"

"Define 'prisoner'? I've a town I won't be cast from. A roof over my head. A profession. Neighbors that mind their own business. I know what to expect each day, at least until you showed up, that is," he concluded with a laugh.

"You could go anywhere you want," Geralt protested.

"Where would I go? I've been all over. I've yet to find a place for me, and I've been searching a long time."

Geralt felt a knot in his stomach and his hands began to feel warm. He immediately blamed the alcohol, excluding any other possibility.

"I've never had a home," Geralt admitted softly.

Regis looked back at him, offering a sympathetic and understanding smile.

"I've never had a bed of my own, never had a place to call home, never had a roof over my head for more than one night…"

"Then you must know what kind of relief it must be to have one, even at such a cost."

Geralt shook his head slowly, looking Regis in the eye, "Not at a cost like this."

Regis turned away, sighing heavily.

"What are you running from?" Geralt asked, barely above a whisper.

Regis paused for a long time and Geralt began to think he wouldn't answer. Finally, he broke the silence, "Something that I am that I cannot change."

"You shouldn't settle for a place where you are tolerated so long as you keep quiet, you should be free to be yourself and live life as the person you really are, or by god keep searching until you find it."

Regis leaned over, cupping Geralt's face in his hands gently, and pressed their lips together.

As soon as the kiss began, it was over.

Geralt stared dumbly at Regis, who was surprised and horrified at his decision.

"Geralt I-"

Before he could finish, the bounty hunter lunged forward, crashing his lips clumsily into Regis's and knocking his hat off. Suddenly their bodies were pressed together, awkwardly propped by the log at their torsos. Geralt's hands tangled in the doctor's hair, pulling his face closer to him. Regis gripped Geralt by the shoulders, melting into the kiss. His hands slid down Geralt's back and wrapped around his waist. Geralt kissed him ravenously, with the hunger and intensity of the animal that gave him his nickname. Regis pushed forward into the kiss, shoving Geralt onto his back and pinning him with his hands and lips. Geralt's fingers found the buttons of the doctor's waistcoat and he began to unfasten them with impressive speed. Then, reaching up to grip the hair at Regis's nape, Geralt pulled the doctor closer to him, he slid his tongue across the man's teeth.

Regis's eyes opened immediately and he scrambled backwards, falling onto his hip and kicking up grass and dirt.

Geralt, struggling for breath and hair sticking up every which way, leaned on his elbows and looked up at the doctor, flush and dazed.

"I shouldn't have done that," Regis whispered.

"No, you very definitely should have."

"No, this was a mistake."

Regis stood up at once and stared down at his unbuttoned vest. Frantically he began buttoning it back up and started pacing around the campfire, determinedly not looking in Geralt's direction. Geralt, unsure what to make of the situation, pushed himself up into a seated position and grabbed his hat from the dirt.

"I'm-I'm terribly sorry, but I have to go," Regis stammered, still not looking at Geralt.

The bounty hunter slowly righted himself, standing quietly and waiting for an explanation.

"I'm sorry," Regis repeated, grabbing his bag from the ground and speeding away.

Geralt, lost for words, watched the lanky doctor trot away from the light of the fire and fade into the distance toward the town. He pressed a finger to his lips, reliving the feeling that had enveloped him mere moments ago. He was radiating heat, but this time he was sure it was not just the alcohol. Sitting down on the log, he let out a disbelieving laugh.

"Shit."


	5. Spilled Blood, Spilled Secrets

Regis rubbed his tired eyes as he read through the text, trying his best to occupy his brain with thoughts of science-concrete, unwavering science. He didn't want to let his mind wander and allow the feelings to creep back in. He was having incredible difficulty. Fortunately, someone entered his office, hopefully providing a worthy distraction.

"Mornin' doctor," Sheriff Reuven called, absentmindedly looking at the medical instruments all over the office. The room was adorned in drying herbs, strange tools hung from the walls, and various bottles labeled in Regis's elegant hand were scattered about the room in an order that only made sense to him.

"Morning, Sheriff," Regis replied, snapping his book shut, "Something I might help you with?"

"That's a question I've been trying to answer myself, you see…"

The broad sheriff found a tool to his liking: a ghastly-looking bone saw. He picked it up, turning it over in his hand. Regis sighed and placed his elbows on the desk, interlocking his fingers under his chin.

"I'm afraid I haven't the time to take up an apprentice at the moment, Sheriff, so I'd appreciate if you'd put my tools down, please."

"You've been spending a great deal of time with the, uh...White Wolf, lately, haven't you?"

"He's a friend."

"I bet."

Regis sat back in his chair, readying himself for a confrontation.

The sheriff turned around and smiled, setting the saw back down where he found it. Regis relaxed a little, but not completely.

"Know much about him?" Sheriff Reuven asked, smirking.

"Coming to hear about his deep dark secrets, Sheriff?"

"No, coming to find out if you'd like to."

"The man's business is his own, I'm not interested," Regis replied, picking his book back open, pretending to find the page he had been reading before.

"I've been digging," the Sheriff explained.

"Mm, that so?" Regis asked, not looking up from his book.

"He's not who you think he is."

"I suppose you're going to tell me all about who he really is."

The sheriff grew very serious, changing the tone of the room. Regis looked up, the hairs on his neck standing up.

"This White Wolf, he's trouble," the sheriff began, "He doesn't hunt humans."

Regis pondered a moment, swallowing a knot in his throat. He feared and suspected as much.

"You really think so?"

"I know so," the sheriff replied, stepping forward and pressing his palms down on Regis's desk, "My information says he's not wholly human himself."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I thought you might want to know."

Regis sneered, "Come now, Sigi, you've never done something without hope for gain in return; I ask again, why are you telling me this?"

"Because you might know who or what he's after."

Regis paused a moment.

 _His eyes. His eyes are alive with fire and passion. That rare smile that reaches his eyes reflected the fire beside him and in him…his lips..._

"Jeremy Sturgess," Regis breathed out, "He was after Jeremy Sturgess."

"Sturgess? Why?"

"Someone on the outside wanted him dead. They knew he had had dealings with a sorceress. They sent Geralt to kill him, only someone got to him first. Geralt was sticking around to track down the man that beat him to the contract, and kill him too."

The sheriff pursed his lips in thought, but after observing Regis a moment, he nodded.

"I see. Poor bastard, Jeremy. Always got himself tangled in things he wasn't up to facing."

Regis nodded and sighed, folding his nervous hands together in his lap.

The sheriff turned and headed for the door.

"Oh," Reuven replied, holding a finger up in the air, "There are those that think Geralt is after our benevolent host…"

The air caught in Regis's lungs.

The sheriff turned around, narrowing his eyes at the doctor, "Master Mirror has eyes and ears around his little playground. He sees something he doesn't like, he snuffs it out at once. I could be wrong, _he_ could be wrong, but he's not one to take chances."

Regis rose slowly from his chair, "What did you do?"

"I haven't done anything-yet," Sheriff Reuven explained, "There are things that _will_ happen, and things that _might_ happen. It's up to you."

Regis tried to control his breathing, but the adrenaline coursed through his veins and he tensed, ready to strike.

"I like you, Regis, I'd hate to see you getting killed over a wanderer," Reuven went on, "I know you're such the noble type, but O'Dimm isn't about to let anyone spoil the world he's built here."

"If you're about to make a deal, state your intent now; I'm growing impatient, Reuven."

"Gee, hundreds of years and now you've decided to lose patience...does he know what you are?"

Regis tensed, flexing out his fingers and arching his back. The smirk disappeared from the sheriff's face, and he put his hands up, "Alright, alright!"

Regis relaxed only slightly, an animalistic expression of warning was present on his normally gentle face.

"Lie low," the sheriff began, "And I can guarantee that O'Dimm won't come after you next."

"That's your big offer?"

"The crafty Master knows there has been plotting going on in his town. He means to cleanse this place of the rebels. With the vagabond going first."

"I can't let that happen."

"Come now, Regis. You and I both know you're happy living here. Don't throw it away like this."

"Living or surviving?"

"What?"

Regis grabbed his bag from the desk, slinging it over his shoulder. He began stuffing the bag with medical supplies, sparing no bandages from this fate.

"Godefroy, you go out that door, I can't do anything to protect you!"

"If I don't go to him now, I will regret it forever…"

X

Triss stepped out from behind Jeremy Sturgess's house at the sound of approaching footsteps. Geralt and Dandelion snuck along quietly and looked around quickly to make sure the trio were truly alone.

The young saloon owner was dressed in slacks and riding boots, her men's shirt was tucked in the slacks and rolled up at the elbows. Her long vibrant hair was tied back in a long braid down her back. The hostess was gone, a woman of business remained.

"Glad you could make it," she replied to the men.

"We doubled back twice, no one followed us here."

"Good," Triss replied seriously, then softened her expression a bit at the sight of Dandelion, who was blinking rapidly against the harsh light of the morning, "How was your night?"

"Geralt and Regis drank me under the table," Dandelion whined, "I was down for the count long before either of them, apparently."

Triss laughed softly and looked at Geralt, who was standing stiffly.

"All right," she concluded, sensing that Geralt was uncomfortable, "Down to business. I wanted you two to meet me here so that we didn't meet directly at the hideout. No offense, I'm sure you weren't followed, but I have to be certain. I won't compromise their safety for anyone."

"Understood," Geralt replied curtly.

"Now, I think we should talk a bit before we head over. There are seven of us, now nine with you two."

Dandelion nodded along. Geralt didn't bother to hide the disappointment on his face.

"I thought there would be more," he admitted.

"Well, not everyone in the town wants to leave, and far fewer are willing to risk eternal torture should they be caught."

"Fair enough," Geralt concluded, still not confident.

"So," Triss continued, "Tomorrow night is the solstice. I've been observing it for years. O'Dimm's hold on the town wavers slightly during the solstice. Tomorrow is a very special solstice. There will also be an eclipse. That's when he will be at his weakest. We think if we can draw him to the edge of town, we can hold him off long enough to escape."

Geralt creased his brow and opened his mouth to speak.

"Dandelion told me you're not a normal bounty hunter," Triss interjected, "I know, you don't have to pretend you don't know magic exists."

Geralt closed his mouth, letting out a huff, "You're a sorceress, then? Dandelion confirmed it for me."

"Correct. Going to kill me?"

"Got any active bounties on your head?"

"Oh, probably."

The pair shared a light laugh. Dandelion laughed nervously, unsure if either party was about to scold him.

"Now that that's out of the way, I'll tell you everything I know about O'Dimm, but not here."

"Why was it safe to tell me what you did about the solstice?"

"Because Jeremy's home and Jefferson's Farm are two places that existed before O'Dimm made this town. His hold on them are limited. A simple spell blocks him from hearing things he doesn't already know, but talk too much about the things he does, and with enough focus he can push through."

Geralt nodded.

"The rest of the conversation can resume at the hideout. With everyone's combined efforts, we will be safe to talk."

The trio began walking, crossing through the brush quietly. Sensing the walk might take a while, Dandelion was determined to make light conversation.

"It's a shame you couldn't come out with us the other night," he told Triss, "It was like Dover all over again."

"Goodness! I'm fortunate to have missed it, then. Were you reduced to tears again?"

"Okay, maybe not exactly like Dover. I learned my lesson. Vodka, not wine."

"I think your issue was a lack of moderation and an excess of baggage, not choice of poison."

"I think it was the wine. Wine really hits me in the soul."

Dandelion turned his attention to Geralt, "Didn't seem to do much damage to the good doctor. An iron liver, that one!"

"What? Oh, yeah, he's no lightweight," Geralt replied, distracted.

"What time did you two even sleep? Dr. Godefroy was gone before I woke up, but I was really dragging this morning."

"Regis left pretty early. He...he had business to attend to, I guess."

"Makes sense. Only doctor in the town, he probably didn't have much time to waste."

"Geralt," Triss asked carefully, "Do you think...do you suppose Regis might want in? I approached him once before, but-"

"No," Geralt replied, shaking his head, "He's happy here."

Triss nodded, sensing the topic was not one to broach again.

X

The trio reached a large abandoned windmill surrounded by a sea of wildflowers. The remnants of a stone wall that once surrounded the farmland was toppling over, spilling into the path Triss was leading them on. She was about to reach for the handle on the door when she and Geralt tensed, sensing they were not alone.

As if from out of nowhere, Regis appeared.

"Wait!" he cried, running up to the trio, "It's a trap!"

Geralt pulled out his guns, and a ball of fire materialized in Triss's palm, but everything was quiet. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called. A bee buzzed happily past Geralt's ear, then flitted away, taking with it the only sound of company.

"What trap?"

Regis stared around, bewildered, then sniffed the air by the windmill. Nothing inside was a threat.

"I...I don't understand," Regis managed, looking at the three faces in confusion.

Suddenly the rumbling of approaching horses shook the ground beneath their feet. All eyes turned up toward the road, and at least a dozen armed men on horseback thundered toward them. In an agonizing moment of realization, the pieces fell into place for Regis.

"It's me…"

Geralt cursed, then ordered everyone behind the windmill. They couldn't risk going inside without jeopardizing the lives of the others. The mill didn't provide much cover, and Geralt was fast, but not that fast. He could probably take out most of them before getting hit.

"I'll hold them off, you three get out of here! Go back to Jeremy's house. If I'm not there in two hours, assume I'm dead, and go back to the saloon. Don't come look for me."

Dandelion's eyes were wide. He wanted to stay and help, but unarmed, he was no use. Triss moved to protest, but Regis beat her to it.

"No, you three go; I'll stay. It's my fault they are here. Please go; I'll be fine."

"Like hell you will," Geralt countered, leaning around the mill and firing one of his guns, hitting a rider in the shoulder and knocking him off his speeding horse.

"This isn't a debate! Geralt; I beg of you, please leave."

"Regis, shut up and run!" Geralt bellowed, leaning around again and firing. The rider ducked low and the bullet missed, clipping the man's hat off, but leaving the rider intact, "Shit!"

"Dandelion, get behind me," Triss exclaimed, grabbing him by the sleeve and pulling him away from the mill. Leaning around the mill the other way, she threw a fireball, scattering some of the nearing riders.

Geralt leaned around and fired at the distracted riders, repeatedly pumping bullets into three of the riders. He ducked back behind the mill and began reloading quickly.

Regis, despite the chaos of the situation, seemed to be in the middle of an intense inner battle.

Triss and Dandelion ran for cover in the woods. Once behind a thick clump of trees, they stopped running and turned, watching the chaos unfold.

"Geralt-"

"Regis, head for the trees!"

Geralt rolled out from behind the mill and fired at three more riders. Another horseman fired at Geralt, but he ducked, the bullet missing him by an inch. The bounty hunter kept firing, knocking rider after rider from his horse. The latest rider to fall crashed mere feet away from Geralt, who fired a finalizing shot into the man's chest.

Regis watched, impressed, as the bounty hunter deftly spun, rolled, and jumped out of the way of danger. A rider threw himself onto Geralt while he was reloading, but a sudden squelch and groan came from the rider, and he fell to his knees, a knife protruding from his gut.

Only one rider remained, and he had dismounted from his horse, shotgun in hand. He was not within a good distance from the bounty hunter, and was hiding behind a rock in the field. Geralt turned to regain cover behind the mill when a shot rang out and blood spurted from Geralt's shoulder, spraying the wall of the mill.

He fell to the ground with a cry, and Regis ran out from behind cover.

"No!" Geralt yelled, lifting a hand to stop Regis, but the doctor didn't listen.

Regis ran up to Geralt with lightning speed as another shot rang out. Regis grabbed ahold of Geralt and dragged him to safety as he was deafened by the heavy blast of a shotgun. Dazed from the pain, Geralt struggled to understand what happened. Then suddenly, he saw a large wound on Regis's chest.

"No, please no," Geralt pleaded, grasping at the doctor.

"Geralt," Regis tried softly.

"You're going to be okay," Geralt replied, abandoning the pressure he had placed on his own wound and pressed his hand to Regis's chest in an effort to stop the bleeding.

"Geralt, I need to tell you something," Regis explained in an even tone.

Geralt's vision was beginning to blur, but he was determined to save the doctor. He blinked to clear his view, then moved his hand, checking the state of the wound. Though the tear in the waistcoat remained, where just moments ago had been a wound, pale intact skin now sat. Geralt blinked again rapidly, sure his eyes were playing tricks on him.

"I'm not who you think I am," Regis concluded.

The rider with the shotgun was sneaking around the corner, but Regis stood up carefully, gently propping Geralt against the wall. He pressed Geralt's hand to his shoulder, "Keep pressure on it."

The shotgun rider rounded the final stretch of the mill and jumped at them, but Regis was quicker. Much quicker. In one fluid motion, the nails on Regis's hands extended, he lunged forward, and then sliced the rider from shoulder to hip, splitting the man apart and sending blood and organs spraying the grass at his feet.

Regis turned back to Geralt and for the first time, Geralt looked at him with shock and a tinge of fear.

Regis's expression was grim, his cheekbones became more prominent, his eyes were sunken in and beady, and his teeth protruded in fangs, long and sharp. His shoulders hunched unnaturally, and the long claws of his hands jutted his bony fingers out at strange angles. Blood drenched the doctor's clothes, and his breathing now was the ragged panting of an animal.

Geralt wasn't given time to respond, as Regis turned at the sound of a rifle shot, and determined the source. In a speed almost impossible to follow, he shot off toward the sound. Geralt sat numbly, limply holding his shoulder and sitting in a pool of his and Regis's blood. After what couldn't have been more than seconds later, a guttural scream echoed from the distance, then all went silent.

Geralt looked down at the ground, trying to piece together what had just happened. A sound like a rushing wind alerted him to Regis's return. The doctor dropped to his knees beside Geralt and began unpacking his bag. He reached to Geralt's shoulder, but the bounty hunter put up a hand to stop him.

"You need to have it bandaged before you lose too much blood. Luckily the shot was through and through and didn't hit anything vital. I think you'll be ok-"

"No," Geralt replied, quiet but stern.

"No what?"

"Get away from me," Geralt told him, keeping his eyes from Regis's.

"Geralt, I-"

"I said get away from me."

Regis backed away and looked down at his feet. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't know that they were following me. All I could think-"

"Regis!"

The sharpness of the hunter's voice caught Regis off guard.

"I don't want to talk to you right now. Please leave me alone. I just...need to be away from you right now."

Triss and Dandelion crept back in from the woods, and Triss sprang to action, bandaging Geralt's shoulder.

"I'm-I'm so sorry, Geralt," Regis replied, choking slightly on his words. He turned and rushed off, evaporating into a whoosh of color that floated on the wind.

"That was a stupid thing to do," Triss told him reproachfully.

"You knew, didn't you?"

Triss sighed, wrapping the bandages tighter, "I had my suspicions. We all mostly kept our pasts and reasons for being here to ourselves. Figured it got in the way of focusing on our plan."

Geralt huffed angrily.

"You know he couldn't have meant for this to happen," Dandelion suggested, taking a knee next to them. "He wasn't part of the trap, Geralt."

"I'm not mad about that."

"Then what?"

"He didn't tell me. He didn't tell me what he was."

Triss sighed, tying off the last of the wrapping. "Did you tell him you weren't a normal bounty hunter, hmm? Do you think perhaps he was trying to protect himself?"

Geralt said nothing. Triss sighed and stood up, looking at Dandelion confusedly. The sorceress put her hands on her hips and huffed.

Dandelion smiled at Triss sadly, catching her eye.

 _He's in love,_ the banjoist mouthed.


	6. Bats A'Swaying In The Breeze

Regis reappeared behind his office, leaning back against the wood with a small thud. His defeated eyes looked up to the dimming sky and blurred slightly as water began gathering before his vision. He closed his eyes and tightened his jaw, feeling the cool tears streak down his cheeks.

 _How could I be so stupid?_

He tried blinking away the tears, stifling the trembling of his lip with his hand. Shaking his head hard, he cleared his eyes. Drawing in a shaky breath, and letting it out determinedly.

 _I can't let anyone see me._

Drawing his posture up straight, he circled around to the front and gave a friendly nod to a passing resident. As he reached for the handle of the door, he caught the strong scent of intrusion. Someone was waiting inside, and not just anyone. Regis threw open the door, coming face to face with the plump sheriff, settled comfortably in Regis's chair.

"Hello Regis," Sheriff Reuven smirked, his dirty boots crossed at the ankle across the heavy desk.

"You didn't know where they were. So you needed me to find them. I was the fool you were counting on to behave like a human, to lead you straight to the rebels."

Reuven uncrossed his legs and placed his feet on the floor, narrowing his eyes at the doctor.

"Well, it was a valiant attempt," Regis continued, "But now the would-be attackers are dead, and you've nothing more to go on."

"Heard some of them died by your own hand."

The sheriff looked at the blood staining Regis's clothes.

"Now I know it to be true," he concluded.

"You wasted your time."

"Oh, no. My time is never wasted. I got everything I needed out of that encounter. Perhaps not what I wanted, but what I needed."

Regis shut the door behind him, walking carefully into the room. The sheriff picked up a paper from his desk and cleared his throat comically, preparing to read aloud.

"Eric Bellegarde, born the 10th of August. Wanted for various crimes including but not limited to murder, bribery, arson, theft, and escaping imprisonment," Reuven's eyes flicked up to Regis's, "Known number of killed vampires: 17."

Regis remained collected on the outside, but inwardly, his emotions were tempestuous.

"Seventeen. That we know of. Says he spent some years in an orphanage but ran away quite young. It's unknown who raised the brat or if he did it himself-can't imagine someone would have taken him in." The sheriff paused, "Did he tell you the real number that he killed? Or even tell you his real name?"

"Regis is not my first given name either. I will always respect the name a man chooses for himself, _Reuven_."

The sheriff let out a hearty chuckle and rose to his feet. He strode to the fireplace and cast the paper into the flames.

"What now?" Regis asked softly.

"I just have one question for you, Regis-shouldn't be too much. And then I'll let you on your way."

He turned to face the doctor.

"Why?"

"Why what? You must be more specific. I've since lost my ability to follow mind games in my old age."

"Why did you throw away a good thing for some...mutt?"

"Was it really a good thing, Sigi? Only half-living. Keeping my truth a secret. Living only among the damned. Doomed to stew quietly until my warden decides that I've gone on long enough and it's time to follow him to into the icy cold of oblivion?"

"It wasn't impatience for going into that icy cold, so again-why? What was so special about the bastard?"

Regis paused a moment. He felt a presence in the room and smiled sadly. He closed his eyes and suddenly was back at the fireside, holding the bounty hunter in his arms. Their soft lips pressed together. The smells of the fire, the scent of the gruff man, the sounds of nothing but crickets as conscious company. The warmth that radiated through Regis body for the first time in a long time-perhaps ever.

His eyes opened and Reuven stood waiting expectantly.

 _Might as well-someone should have to listen to it before it's too late._

"He's like fire," Regis breathed.

Reuven quirked a brow, but waited for further explanation.

"He's a light in the dark. From any distance I can see him out there. Born in the dark, but a light that refuses to go out. What a guiding light he was. His fire illuminates in the eyes of those whose company he keeps-and oh, does he keep them warm. His mysterious light drew me like a moth to a flame. I knew-get too close and you will burn-and oh, how I did burn," Regis placed a hand over his heart, "How I do burn. I reached out and touched fire and it burned. It burned so bad but I would do it again. I would reach out again and again because when I touched the fire and burned I realized how cold I had been before. Must I burn to feel warm, I would touch fire again and again just to feel how warm he made me."

Regis let out a breath and felt his eyes brim with tears again. This time he didn't bother to hide it. He knew in his heart he would never get to say these things to Geralt, so it was now or never.

"If he asked it of me, I would do or give anything in this world. I would cross oceans. I would wander deserts. I know what awaits me, but I will not grow cold in the icy void. His fire reaches far. I will carry what could have been, forever."

Reuven nodded, walking up to the doctor. Regis felt the presence grow stronger in the room, and he rose to full height. Reuven stopped before the doctor, towering over him.

"I didn't know vampires could cry," he sneered, "Good-I'll keep it in mind. Farewell, Regis."

"Farewell, Sigi Reuven. I hope what justice finds you comes swiftly."

The sheriff snorted and sauntered out of the office, closing the door behind him. The presence neared Regis and stepped in front of him. The signature smirk of one Gaunter O'Dimm appeared at once.

"Regis," O'Dimm greeted in a singsong voice, "What have you gotten yourself into?"

"I fear I have bitten off more than I could chew, oh master of mirrors."

"That appears to be the case. Did you think you could keep your exploits secret from me? In my own town? You astonish me, Regis."

"I've been lying even to myself, as of late. You're nothing special."

Gaunter O'Dimm let out a hearty laugh.

"I always did like you. You're of the old world. You always did have a relatively good perspective. Your time among humans has made you rather short-sighted, though."

"Live in the moment, as they say."

"They are wrong to. That moment is gone as quickly as it began. Their entire lives are a grain of sand in the desert of time. I can honestly say I didn't expect it from you-damning yourself for eternity for the sake of one singular moment in time. You, who should know the weight of eternity better than anyone else in this town."

Regis sighed, pursing his lips, "I am a calculating man, O'Dimm. I very rarely act without assessing the consequences."

"All the more troubling. I assume your use of my name was not one of those rare times."

"No, that was unequivocally intentional."

"Have you become determined to irk me?"

The doctor let out an exasperated huff, "What do you want from me? Do you want me on my knees begging for mercy? Do you wish it of me to kiss your rings and insist I will make a new deal with you and follow it to the letter? Take your deals and your twisted promises and fuck yourself with them, _Master_ ," he ended, bowing low and graciously with a flourish of his hand.

Rather than react angrily, O'Dimm merely smiled, a cruel twisting smile. Regis suddenly found himself frozen in the comical bow, unable to move anything besides his face.

"I think I like you like this, bowing in servitude to the man who gave you everything you had. What was it you said to me, once? 'I'll do anything?' That you will. You will bend to my will and before I have finished with you, you will be begging me to give you permission to crawl."

"You can do what you must, and do what I'm sure will tickle your fancy, but I know you would not go to the trouble for a simple nuisance. You're afraid that this nobody stands a chance at getting to you."

An agonizing pain gripped Regis's body and it felt like he was being ripped apart, cell by cell. He moved to open his mouth, but found that he couldn't. He tried to tighten his diaphragm to scream, but nothing moved, and no sound escaped him. The terrible, excruciating pain seemed to go on forever, then suddenly it stopped and Regis dropped to his knees.

"Oh, look at that, you know your place again," O'Dimm mused.

Regis's whole body shuddered and he thought he was going to be sick, but he willed his shaking voice to find the words, "I will never give you the satisfaction."

"Oh, but you will. Don't you see? Only three human seconds passed. Do you imagine you could endure pain on that scale for hours? For days? What if time altogether ceased, and you were locked like that for all of eternity?"

"Geralt scares you. Talk of rebelling, of people coming together and telling you enough is enough scares you. Without your grip firm on the marionette strings, you are nothing you-"

Regis once again found himself gripped by the invisible claws digging under his skin. The fingers of the pain tore his tissues, stretched nerves, turned his blood to fire, and pulled his skin in every direction. This time, he was not frozen and writhed around on the ground, letting out a piercing and bone-chilling scream. His body defensively tried to transform, but he couldn't. His nails scratched the floorboards and chipped. Blood dripped from his nails, his ears, and his nose. What should have been tears dripped crimson as well.

"Oh Regis," O'Dimm taunted, "Such a humanist-you are not one of them, but like them, you think your attempts to be brave in the face of certain doom will count for anything." His voice rose over Regis's howling, "You might be able to endure more pain than them, but it only means you will take longer to perish. And very much unlike them, you can regenerate again and again, never dying, always in agony."

The magic hold on Regis let go, and his thrashing stopped. His whole body shuddered violently on the floor. He curled defensively into a ball and hugged himself.

"Your attempts at defiance are wasted," O'Dimm taunted, "And will only make things worse for you."

Regis hugged himself tighter, his breathing was raspy and labored. He whispered something quietly.

O'Dimm stepped closer to hear.

Regis trembled. He slowly turned his face up towards Master Mirror. The blood that had dripped was smeared on his face.

"Dues need be repaid and he will come for you…"

His lip quivered slightly, but his teeth, fangs and all, were gritted. His dark eyes were aflame with anger and defiance. His dark brow creased in, narrowing his bold eyes.

"What will you do when the White Wolf comes for _you_?"


	7. Wolves Asleep Amidst The Trees

Geralt found himself lying on a cot, more pissed off than he had been in a long time. Dandelion sat nervously next to the bounty hunter, watching as Triss worked to apply healing herbs to the man's wound. He barely flinched at the touch of the woman; he was deeply distracted by his own thoughts.

"Geralt?" Dandelion asked meekly. "Geralt? Please look at me. You need to rest."

"You need a lot more than rest. You need to do exactly as I say if you're going to be of any use tomorrow," Triss told him frankly.

The bounty hunter said nothing, just sat quietly, stewing in his thoughts.

The sorceress finished her work on his shoulder and shook her head, dropping blood-stained bandages into a basket at the foot of the bed.

"You're lucky the bullet didn't hit your heart," she scolded, wiping her hands on an apron she had tied at the waist.

"We should be working on the plan," Geralt replied softly.

"We already have a plan. One that we will discuss later."

"No, now, I can talk now," Geralt insisted, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed.

"Lie back down right now!" Triss thundered in a tone that surprised Geralt and Dandelion, and frankly, even her.

Geralt did as he was told.

Triss cleared her throat and looked at him apologetically.

"Drink this," she commanded, handing him a cup. "You need to sleep. We will talk later."

Geralt nodded slowly. Triss walked off. Dandelion, smiling sheepishly scooted his stool closer to Geralt's bed while the hunter sipped the drink. He sat the empty cup down and sighed.

"I've been a damned fool, huh?" Geralt asked, tossing his head back on the pillow. The action made his shoulder ache.

"Well, yeah, but that's nothing new," Dandelion quipped.

Geralt shot Dandelion a look.

"Relax, it's okay. Everyone's fine. You got the brunt of it, and you'll heal in no time," Dandelion insisted, a little uncertain.

"I shouldn't have done what I did."

"Regis knows you just need time."

"No, I mean trusting him."

Dandelion gave a look of befuddlement.

"I put everyone in danger by trusting him," Geralt continued, shaking his head in frustration.

"Are you kidding me?" Dandelion huffed. "God strike me dead if I ever have reason to vouch for your intelligence!"

Geralt was taken aback by the sudden outburst, but had no time to process.

"You can lie to yourself all you want, but you can't lie to me. I'm your friend, Geralt. So, as your friend, I feel an obligation to tell you when you're being an ass."

"What are you-"

"I'm not finished!" Dandelion bellowed, startling a few of the sleeping rebels. He raised a palm in apology, then lowered his voice, "I said I'm not finished. For as long as I've known you, you've been...well, a bit sour, to put it mildly. You've never been one to get attached quickly, and even for what a great friend I am, we wouldn't be this close if I didn't keep trying to be your friend. Regis has only ever done everything to protect you, even from him. Don't look at me like that. You know I'm right. I can see it in the way you look at each other. I can feel the passion between the two of you. The longing, the pining, the beating of your hearts in sync. Also, I heard you two kiss the other night."

Geralt let out an exasperated sigh, moved to rise from his bed, shaking his head.

"Stay, Geralt, I'll go. You need to sleep."

Geralt remained seated, glaring at his friend.

"Just know…" Dandelion began, "You and I both know something runs deep here, and it's not to be ignored. He feels what you do. Exactly what you do."

Geralt stayed silent, but his expression softened slightly.

Dandelion turned to go, but Geralt spoke.

"How do you know?"

Dandelion looked back and shrugged, "I'm an artist. It's my job to know these things."

The musician sauntered away, taking a seat with some of the rebels and striking up some quiet conversation. Geralt laid back down on the cot and positioned himself to be more comfortable. He hoped he would sleep, but he expected little to come of his efforts. His mind was racing, but he felt himself growing unnaturally tired. Soon he was having difficulty keeping his eyes open.

He thought back to the drink.

 _She drugged me,_ he thought, drifting off to sleep.

Geralt's eyes opened and he was sitting in cool grass under the warm sun, his back against a tree. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair and billowed his flannel shirt. The tree was at the edge of a grassy cliff. Over the edge, waves crashed on sharp rocks, and the sea stretched as far as Geralt could see, meeting a horizon which a bright orb of a sun was beginning to dip into. Perched on the edge of the cliff was Regis, wearing white dress shirt rolled at the sleeves. The suspenders on his slacks hung limply on his hips, and he wore no shoes. The doctor slipped his hands casually into his pockets and wiggled his toes in the grass.

Geralt stood, walking slowly to stand beside the doctor. He looked down at Regis's feet, then back up at Regis, who was smiling softly.

"What are you doing?"

"Enjoying the moment, my friend."

Geralt nodded, turning to look out toward the horizon.

"Perhaps you should do the same," Regis continued, "You look troubled."

"That's just my face."

" _More_ troubled than your usual visage betrays."

Geralt remained quiet a moment, watching the sun slip causally into the water, casting an orangish glow.

"I think everyone is going to die, and I don't know what to do. These rebels, they aren't fighters. Very few have ever fought, fewer still have skills beyond the average human. O'Dimm will not be easy to fight, and they will probably not all live to escape."

"All hope is lost. Why not just leave? You are not bound to this realm. You may come and go as you please. Why not take Dandelion and flee?"

Geralt stayed quiet a moment, then swallowed a knot in his throat.

"I want you to come with me."

Regis looked at Geralt and smiled, showing his fangs. This time Geralt did not shy away from the image. He spared a grimace of a smile in return.

"Oh, you humans, ever pining after that which you cannot have…"

"I don't….want to have you," Geralt began, drawing a glance from Regis, "I want you to have me."

Regis quirked a brow.

Geralt swallowed again, "I don't...I've never... _felt_ anything like what I do when I'm around you. You make me want to say to hell with this contract and just leave, ask you to come with me and just go...but we can't."

"Because of O'Dimm?"

Geralt nodded.

Regis pondered a moment, "If I were not bound here, would you leave all others bound to their fates?"

Geralt sighed, "No, I suppose not. But I'd get you and Dandelion out of here first. Get you far away from here before everything happened."

"Kind of you to want to protect me, but as you saw for yourself, I can take care of myself adequately well."

"But can you protect me?"

Geralt's voice was small, and Regis's eyes widened slightly. He looked over the hunter and grew somber. He reached a gentle hand out to Geralt's face and touched his cheek.

"I would do anything to protect you."

"What about from losing you?"

"I don't follow."

"The only thing that could hurt me now is something happening to you. I couldn't bear that."

Regis grew quiet and withdrew his hand. He looked away, as if hiding some secret.

Geralt knew at once the meaning behind the look.

"He has you…" Geralt said, barely above a whisper.

The sun had dipped fully into the ocean and now the sky was growing dark. Clouds from behind the men rushed across the sky, closing in on them.

Regis said nothing, he merely walked calmly to the edge of the cliff.

"A strange thing-love. It grips you like a vice, but it is not altogether unpleasant. It feels like...a wool sweater. Warm, but a little heavy. You feel protected, but suspicious that it will not be enough to last in the cold. I can honestly say I've not felt the likes of this before. I've felt it in fragments before. The taste of tea with honey on a chilly morning. The smell of a meal being prepared in the hearth for your arrival. The touch of the early morning sun on you as you slumber. The sound of the first summer rain after a long draught."

Regis turned back to Geralt and smiled sadly, "When I see you, I feel a home."

Geralt smiled back, walking forward and cutting down the space between them.

A sudden crack of thunder and flash of lightning caught Geralt off guard. He looked up at the sky then back to Regis, who looked nervous.

"He'll snare you in bonds, eyes glowin' afire…" Regis said quietly.

"What?"

Another flash of lightning hit, this time striking Regis. In the blinding flash, where once stood the doctor was now a round-faced man. Geralt had never seen this man before, but knew instantly who he was. The man was standing with his arms behind his back, clasping his hands together curtly. He flashed a faux-friendly smile to Geralt and tipped his head to the side, examining the hunter.

"Wake up, Geralt, the nightmare has yet to start."

Geralt's eyes snapped open and he shot up quickly in his cot. He turned his head and saw Dandelion and Triss standing at the edge of his bed. He expected them to say something about the rough way he had awoken, but both were looking at him with pity, both trying to will themselves to tell him something.

Dandelion looked at Geralt's face and closed his eyes, looking away. Triss puffed up her chest, trying to will herself to speak.

"He has Regis," Geralt cut in.

"Regis...was not at home, we don't know for sure that-"

"O'Dimm. He has Regis. I know it."

This time Triss didn't say anything.

Geralt could feel his blood boiling. He was terrified for Regis; he suddenly missed him terribly. But even more, he was angry. The anger made him shake. He could feel the lust for blood rising in him. The utter hatred and desire for vengeance began to show itself on Geralt's haggard features.

"Geralt-" Dandelion tried.

"I'm going to kill him."

Geralt swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and this time no one stopped him. He sat, hunched over on the cot, his rage ripping through him.

"We are going to draw him out, and then I am going to rip each limb from his body."

He looked at his friend and Triss's lips parted slightly in surprise at the terrifying anger in the man's eyes.

"I'm going to get Regis back, and O'Dimm is going to pay."


	8. Deal With The Devil

Geralt rode slowly down the main street of the town, inching closer to the chasm beyond the last building. A drunk man stumbled across the road, oblivious to the rider. A man walking back from the sheriff's building stopped in his tracks as he watched the hunter ride toward the place no one goes. His eyes went wide and he ran towards his house.

 _Whatever is about to happen_ , the man thought to himself, _I want no part of it._

Roach walked on.

Staring into the mouth of the ravine, Geralt slowed the horse a bit, but did not stop. The wind whistled between the rock and sounded like a distant cry. The hunter gripped the reins with the hand of his uninjured arm. The damaged shoulder was in a sling, but was somewhat deceiving. Under the flap oh his coat, his cradled hand rested on the grip of his silver-bullet gun. Roach nickered quietly as they pressed onward into the chasm. The high stone walls closed in on them. A faint sound of breathing echoed off the stone; Geralt strained his hearing, but there was nothing else around.

Further they trudged, the sound of Roach's hooves crunching the gravel pierced the sudden overwhelming quiet. The path stretched as far as Geralt could see. He was uncomfortably aware that there was only one way in and one way out.

The waning sun was slowly elongating the shadows that extended across the path, dimming the trail. The path was beginning to grow colder too, an unnatural cold given the time of year. Geralt let out a huff of impatience and was surprised to see his breath swirl in front of him.

 _Must be getting close,_ he told himself, despite having no visual clues on the path that would indicate their journey was reaching an end.

As he rode, he began to get the feeling the chasm never actually ended and he would be trapped riding forward forever. He wondered how far he must have gone, and turned around in the saddle to look. The path behind him looked precisely the same as the path in front of him-no end in sight.

He turned back around and found himself stopped. Suddenly they were in front of the opening of a cave, alight with torches. Sitting in an old wooden rocking chair was the man from Geralt's dream. He rocked slowly, absentmindedly playing with a skull. He paid the newcomer no mind and continued rocking, the creak of the chair playing off the looming roof of the cave mouth.

Geralt gripped his pistol tighter but made no other movements. Roach kicked up rocks nervously, pawing at the ground uneasily.

"Oh," the man exclaimed softly, pretending to just realise Geralt was there, "Geralt. Good of you to come. You showed some impressive patience riding in. Most people look back within thirty seconds of entering the chasm. I figured you might take twenty minutes. Under normal circumstances I suppose you'd take at least a half hour, but you're cross with me."

Gaunter O'Dimm turned the skull around so that the base was facing Geralt and held it up. Embedded in the back of the bone was a pocket watch.

"Twenty-two minutes," he told Geralt.

He smiled a hideous smile and tossed the skull aside. Upon hitting the ground, it shattered sending pieces of skull flying in various directions. The pocket watch bounced twice then came to a rest. O'Dimm stood up from his seat and clasped his hands together excitedly.

Geralt stood up straighter in the saddle.

"Where's Regis?" Geralt demanded, drawing his pistol and pointing it at O'Dimm.

"Now," O'Dimm taunted, cocking his head to the side, "You and I both know you aren't going to-"

Geralt fired a shot at the man in front of him.

O'Dimm blinked in surprise and touched the place where his left ear had been. Blood wet his fingers and he nodded, pursing his lip.

"Silver bullets-impressive," he admitted before waving his bloodied hand beside his head. As if it was a magician's trick, the ear reappeared on his head, "What would be more impressive is if you could fire bullets into me faster than I can heal myself."

Geralt cocked the gun, "I'm always up for a race."

O'Dimm chuckled and nodded again before turning around and retaking his chair.

"Have a seat, Geralt," O'Dimm began.

"No thanks, I think I'll-"

"Take a seat," O'Dimm demanded.

As suddenly as he had said it, Geralt found himself in a chair matching O'Dimm's.

Geralt's head whipped around as he searched for Roach.

"Relax-your horse is back in town, much safer than you are."

Geralt was relieved and settled into the chair. If this man wanted to play games, he could play too.

"You pester me, hunter," O'Dimm began, "As I'm sure you've gathered by now, I can't kill you. Not directly, anyway. My attempts to indirectly have you taken out of play were thwarted by a...misbehaving pet of mine."

Geralt's jaw clenched and O'Dimm smiled, clearly getting the reaction he wanted.

"I love humans with subtle expressions-it's always so fun to get a rise out of them. So delicate, yet runs so deep. I can see I have struck a nerve, and I dare venture to guess that not many get the pleasure of recognizing when they do."

Geralt said nothing.

"Any rate," O'Dimm went on, "I would like to make a deal."

"I'm not making a deal with you."

"Funny," O'Dimm chirped, "That's what Regis said before I broke every bone in his torso."

Geralt's eyes narrowed and his teeth clenched. His hand snuck along his belt and reached for his gun.

O'Dimm sighed.

"You can shoot me as many times as you like-"

"Oh, I certainly will-"

"-But it will change nothing. You cannot kill me. I cannot kill you. We are at a stalemate."

"Maybe, but a few bullets to your chest might lighten my mood a bit."

O'Dimm smiled again, "Maybe."

Geralt drew in a breath, weighing his options, then withdrew his hand from his gun and sat back in his chair. O'Dimm quirked his head, but seemed otherwise satisfied with this decision. Geralt didn't show it outwardly, but he was growing extremely impatient.

"Now what?" he asked calmly.

"Now...we make a deal."

Geralt looked into the black of the cave. He wondered where Regis was, if he was even still alive. The thought made his blood boil, so he refused to consider the alternative any longer. No, Regis must be alive, and he will find him.

"What sort of deal?" Geralt asked quietly, to subdue the mounting anger in his voice.

"Simple," O'Dimm announced, standing up from his chair, "You leave my town, forget what you've seen here...I won't come after you on the outside."

"You call that a deal?"

"Oh, but it is. Did I forget to mention? Oh-silly me," O'Dimm chuckled menacingly, "I can't hurt you here, because this is my town, and only my playthings are bound to me. Outside of here? I can find you. I can track you down, no matter what rock you may crawl under-and kill you."

Geralt tipped back in his chair in faux-nonchalance, ignoring the gnawing pain it caused in his shoulder.

"I see," he replied, pretending to think it over, "So what would happen...say, I just stay in this town? For as long as I live?"

"If I'm being honest? Fine by me. You've been blessed with unnaturally long life, yes, but what are another fifty years to me? A hundred. Two hundred. No matter. The closer you are, the easier I can scoop up your soul."

"I'll make you another deal-let Regis go...and I'll no longer be a thorn in your side."

O'Dimm snorted, "That's not a very good deal. I paid for that vampire's hide, he belongs to me."

"What is he worth?"

"Well, what is he worth to _you_?"

Geralt looked away, he could feel a pain in his chest, and it wasn't the gunshot wound.

"What about a life for a life?"

"There are very few who are worth the same as a vampire."

"What about compared to a Hunter?"

Now O'Dimm was intrigued.

"Are you really willing to trade your soul for his?"

Geralt was quiet. He thought he would need time to think of his response, but the easiness with which the truth came was so swift, he had to clench his jaw to stop from immediately replying.

"Yes," he replied quietly, "My soul for his. A trade. A deal."

A wide smirk appeared on O'Dimm's face, " _Now_ we are getting somewhere."

The master of mirrors snapped his fingers and suddenly Geralt's chair was transported to a grassy cliffside. The immediate change in scenery startled the hunter and he sprang from his chair, looking around wildly. Over the cliff edge he could see the faint outline of the town. Turning around, a large tree loomed above. The area was suddenly familiar. It was the cliffside from his dream, only it was real, and it was high above the ravine. The cliff from his dream was at the top of the daunting chasm.

Geralt walked close to the edge and looked over. The drop was significant. He swallowed and stepped back slowly.

"Geralt?"

The questioning voice was soft and weak, but there was no mistaking the owner.

Geralt turned around and found O'Dimm standing next to a very exhausted-looking Regis. His eyes were wild and dark, he swayed lightly on the spot, and somehow looked both relieved and terrified.

"Regis," Geralt began, taking a step toward the man.

"Ah," O'Dimm cut in, "Not just yet. A trade is a trade."

Regis looked from Geralt to the master and back, shaking his head fervently.

"No, no, no, no," he stammered, "I will not allow this. Geralt, I beg of you-I failed you once, do not allow me to fail you again. You've come in vain. You cannot trust-"

O'Dimm waved his hand, and the sound of Regis's voice vanished instantly.

He moved his mouth, trying to make any noise, but the effort was wasted.

Geralt clenched his fists, drawing the shooting pain in his shoulder. The pain was good, it reminded him what would happen if he tried to fight O'Dimm right now. He had to be patient.

"Enough, O'Dimm! You've got me-now let him go," Geralt growled.

"I'll release my hold on him after he is transported back to town. Don't want him trying anything."

Geralt stepped back, "That's not the deal. I will not submit until you release him."

O'Dimm opened his mouth to protest further, but Geralt turned to Regis.

"Regis, I've made my choice. If you care for me at all you will respect my wish."

Regis shook his head stubbornly.

"Regis…it's _time_ ," Geralt added slowly.

For as much as Geralt could boast an ability to mask his emotions, Regis could take the cake when he needed to. Ever so slightly, the light in the vampire's dark eyes changed, and Geralt knew at once Regis understood.

Regis looked at O'Dimm and tilted his head down, playing up his despair. The vampire nodded slowly and looked away from the pair, pretending to give in.

O'Dimm smiled, satisfied with the response. He waved a hand over Regis, and suddenly the vampire let out a rasping breath, feeling the talons of his captor leave him. At the next moment, O'Dimm turned back to Geralt, who rose to full height, and began to raise a hand.

Geralt tilted his head back, letting out a breath. As he felt the effects of the master of mirrors reaching into his soul to claim him, the full moon peeked out from behind the clouds. Geralt closed his eyes, drawing in his breath again, slipping his hand in his pocket, then snapped his eyes open.

"Now!" he shouted, throwing a small stone onto the ground in front of him and shielding his eyes.

The small rock from his pocket exploded on impact with the ground and emitted a large blast, showering all three men in a blinding white light. O'Dimm staggered backwards and Regis hit the ground, covering his head and neck with his arms. Geralt, the only one truly ready for what had just happened ran full speed at O'Dimm, lowering his head and tackling the trickster to the ground in a teeth-chattering collision.

Regis sprang to his feet as O'Dimm wrestled an arm free from Geralt's grip and faced his palm at the vampire. Regis turned to a mist and dodged the blast of light that shot out of O'Dimm's hand. O'Dimm turned his hand to Geralt, and the same pulse shot the hunter backwards.

He flipped in the air, heels whipping over his head. As the hunter finished his rotation, his feet hit the ground hard and he struggled to keep upright, waving his arms to regain balance. O'Dimm was already on his feet, moving his fingers intricately in patterns Geralt did not recognize. The master raised to strike out when he was grabbed from behind by a suddenly-appearing Regis.

The vampire's teeth were bared and his long claws had extended as he wrestled to hold O'Dimm's arms. Geralt grabbed his gun from his belt and fired shots into O'Dimm's legs, bringing him to his knees. The master shrugged Regis off and rolled away at impressive speed. When he stood back up, his legs were healed.

"I told you!" O'Dimm shouted angrily, "You can't kill me like this!"

"Oh, just wait," Geralt taunted, smirking.

A blast of light shot up from the town below the cliff. It pierced the sky, parting the clouds and sending a burst of air shooting in every direction, eventually reaching the cliff and ruffling Geralt's hair and clothes. O'Dimm stood, bewildered and watched as the far edges of the town started to grow opaque and fade.

O'Dimm made a gesture at his side then paused, shocked and angry. He made the gesture again, but whatever he expected to happen wasn't.

Regis slowly walked to stand beside Geralt and looked at the master growing enraged by his inability to make his gesture work.

"He can't teleport…" Regis breathed softly, impressed.

Geralt smirked and flexed, reading himself for the fight that was going to happen.

"Clever," O'Dimm hissed, "But you made a mistake. The very powers that allowed me to do what I wish in my town is what kept me from killing those that don't belong to me."

"I promised I'd kill you, O'Dimm. I'm a man of my word," Geralt replied, cocking his gun.

"We'll see," O'Dimm growled, his voice going inhumanly deep as his eyes turned black.

Regis roared, hunching his shoulders for the fight.

O'Dimm charged and Geralt fired.


	9. Suicide Mission

"You wanna do what?" Dandelion gasped, dropping his banjo on the floor beside his seat.

"Go alone, he'll let me in," Geralt replied calmly.

"Yeah, he'll let you in, then never back out again!"

"Look," Geralt sighed, making eye contact with each rebel in the room, then settling on Triss, "His greed is his biggest weakness. He wouldn't pass up a chance to get me. I'm the biggest threat to him that he knows of. If I'm out of the picture, he has no trouble."

Triss pursed her lips in thought, but Dandelion was still panicked.

"Geralt," he pleaded, "If you go in there, you will not come back."

"Maybe, but someone has to keep him busy while the sorceresses do what they need to. If what you said is true," Geralt began, nodding to Triss again, "Then destroying his town is going to be quite noticeable. As soon as you start, he will know immediately, he will stop you all, and he will kill you. I have to buy you time. You _need_ someone to keep him where he is while you punch a hole in this place."

Dandelion swallowed nervously, but looked to Triss to hear what she had to say.

She was quiet a while as she thought, then she nodded.

"It's our best chance, but you can't just go in there empty-handed. I've been working on this," Triss walked over to a box and opened it, pulling out a balled up cloth. Unraveling the fabric, she revealed a normal-looking stone. Were it not for the presentation, Geralt wouldn't assume this stone was any more special than any rock fished from the river bed.

"It's a bomb of sorts. Crack it open and it should create a hold to prevent his ability to teleport."

"That would be perfect."

" _But_ ," Triss cut in, "It won't hold him long. Twenty minutes maybe."

"Maybe?"

"I haven't exactly had the chance to test it on him. I don't know how well he will be able to resist it."

"Assume he can resist it extremely well; how long will I have?"

"At minimum?" Triss paused, "Three, four minutes tops."

One of the rebels, a fair-haired woman, let out a breath. Silence hung over the room.

Dandelion sat back down in his seat and stared at the ground.

"Okay," Geralt said finally, nodding decidedly, "Three minutes. Can you get the job done in three minutes?"

"No," Triss admitted softly, "A fast job will take about five."

Geralt nodded again, rubbing his injured shoulder and flexing his fingers in the sling.

"I'll have to stay really close to him. You don't happen to have another one of those stones do you?"

"It took four years to get the supplies for one."

"So," Dandelion began hopefully, "Did you start working on this eight years ago…?"

Triss shot him a look and he grew quiet.

"Okay," Geralt began again, "I go in, we talk. I stall for everyone to set up. How will I know it's time to throw the stone? We need as much overlap between his inability to teleport and you all doing what you need to."

"When the full moon appears, throw it, that'll be our signal."

"I throw it, I keep him busy…"

"We can destroy the town and leave without him having a hold on us."

"Good."

"No," Dandelion cut in, shaking his head, " _Not_ good! You are all forgetting two really important things. Number one: if he knows you are lying about trading, he will sniff it out and everything is over."

Geralt grew quiet and rubbed his shoulder again. A knott was forming in his stomach. He looked at Dandelion and the singer knew immediately what Geralt would say. Geralt looked at Triss and let out a steadying breath.

"It won't be a lie."

Triss swallowed and nodded slowly, averting her eyes from the hunter.

Geralt crossed the room, heading over to where his gun belt sat and began making preparations to head out. Returning to the group, he looked over everyone and smiled lightly.

"Good luck, everyone, I'm counting on you."

The rebels murmured words of luck and encouragement. Triss crossed the room and pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you," she whispered, extending the hug.

Geralt smiled softly, and looked at Dandelion, who was staring at the ground still.

"Goodbye and good luck, Dandelion," Geralt began, and turned to leave.

Dandelion stood up grumpilly and grabbed Geralt, pulling him into a tight hug.

"I hate you, sometimes, Geralt," Dandelion said quietly into Geralt's uninjured shoulder.

"Likewise, Dandelion," Geralt laughed.

When they pulled apart, Dandelion tried to clear blurring eyes, "It's not goodbye. I'll see you.  
"See you," Geralt agreed, turning and heading out the door.

Triss sat down at the table, looking over the rebels. Dandelion remained standing, looking at the door Geralt had just closed.

"Dandelion," Triss began, "What was the other thing we were forgetting?"

"Hmm?" Dandelion asked, snapping out of his stupor.

"You said there were two things we forgot. Catching him in a lie was one, what was two?"

Dandelion looked back at Triss sadly, "Once we all escape, only Geralt will be left to fight O'Dimm. I wanted to know how he planned to get away. Now I know: he likely won't."

X

O'Dimm reeled from the shots and spun out of the way, hissing and gurgling from the pain. Geralt popped open the chamber of his gun and quickly began reloading.

"Regis, run! Go to the others, help them get out of here!"

Geralt snapped the chamber shut and raised his gun at O'Dimm, who fired a blast of magic from his hand. Geralt dropped and rolled forward on his uninjured shoulder.

"I'm not leaving," Regis replied in an inhuman voice, racing toward O'Dimm, claws swiping at the man.

The vampire dodged and danced, clawing at the master and parrying gestures from the hands that sent blasts of magic at him. O'Dimm got in a punch to Regis's gut that knocked the wind from him. O'Dimm twirled his fingers and shoved his palm out, but the vampire turned to mist again, swirling away from the blow. The master followed the smoke and reached out, gripping the vampire's throat and forcing him to reappear.

As shots rang out, O'Dimm was forced to let go of Regis and lurched forward in pain, quickly trying to heal himself from the damage. Geralt fired more rapidly, striding up to where the master dropped to his knees and kept shooting, each bullet forcing an angry and pained groan from the victim.

Regis dealt a strong blow to the master's head causing the master to use his hands to stop himself from falling onto his face. Geralt walked up close and fired the last shot in his gun and popped it open to reload.

O'Dimm swiped a strong arm into Regis's legs, but Regis leaped to the side and regained his balance, running up to jump and strike again. As Regis leapt into the air, O'Dimm pulled a silver knife from his boot and raised it to pierce Regis's gut.

Geralt crashed the empty gun into O'Dimm's head, pistol-whipping the master. At the same time, Geralt grabbed O'Dimm under his raised arm and forced the both of them to roll to the side, away from Regis. Regis landed on his feet with a thud, the pair outside of his reach.

As O'Dimm and Geralt rolled, O'Dimm sliced at Geralt, cutting a gash in Geralt's chest.

The hunter rolled away faster and sprang to his feet, crimson beginning to stain his shirt.

Regis let out a roar and raced toward O'Dimm again.

Geralt looked around and saw his gun had been dropped in the struggle. He ran toward the pistol, but O'Dimm kicked it across the ground as he grappled with Regis, swinging his knife at the vampire, nearly getting him a few times. Geralt ran for his gun again, but O'Dimm grabbed a fistful of the hunter's coat and pulled him backwards. Frantically Geralt shrugged his way out of the coat, his shoulder burning in agony at the movement. Stumbling forward, he scooped up the gun and began to frantically reload.

Regis wrapped an arm around O'Dimm's neck and yanked him backwards away from Geralt. The master turned quickly and tried to jam the knife into Regis's chest again, but Regis caught his wrist just in time. Locked facing each other, Regis's nostrils flared in anger. Pulling O'Dimm closer, he headbutted him and the pair lurched apart again.

Geralt fired as O'Dimm raised an arm. The bullet hit his shoulder and he recoiled in pain. Regis slashed his claws across O'Dimm's chest a few times and retracted the claws on one hand, curling his fingers into a fist, and delivered a crunching blow below the master's chin, sending him flying onto his back.

Geralt fired rapidly while O'Dimm was stuck on the ground. The last bullet Geralt fired O'Dimm redirected with a wave of his hand. The bullet grazed Regis's thigh and caused the vampire to drop to a knee, letting out a growl.

Geralt's eyes widened and he turned to O'Dimm who was bloodied but smirking. The hunter flew into a rage, running up to the master and tackling him again. One hand was around the master's throat and his other pinned the wrist with the knife. He moved a knee to pin the wrist and freed his other hand to deliver a flurry of blows to the master's face. O'Dimm jammed a few fingers into Geralt's new wound and the hunter rolled off, lying on his back, coughing in pain.

O'Dimm seized the opportunity and climbed on top of Geralt, moving to choke the life out of the injured hunter. The grip was fierce and made Geralt's eyes bug out, but the hunter had a secret weapon of his own. Pulling out his own knife, he stabbed it up between the ribs of the master. O'Dimm howled and staggered backwards. The knife wasn't silver like O'Dimm's but it still hurt.

Taking the chance, Geralt rose to his feet and put some distance between himself and O'Dimm. O'Dimm pulled out the knife and threw it at Regis as the vampire neared him. Regis dodged it easily, but it slowed down his approach.

Geralt risked a chance to look at the disappearing town over the edge of the cliff. Less than half of the town remained and the light from the magic beam in the distance was growing brighter.

 _Time will be up soon…_

Regis and O'Dimm wrestled, throwing blows and magic, claws and hands whipped about in the struggle as each tried to knock the other to the ground. More blood was pooling on Geralt's chest, his shoulder was beginning to lock up, and he was now unarmed. Calculating the risk, Geralt jogged up to the fight. Regis spun around and stood behind O'Dimm, trying to hold the master's arms. As the opportunity opened up, Geralt could deliver a series of strategic blows that the master was unable to block. Regis moved to sink his teeth into O'Dimm's neck, but the master threw back his head, connecting with Regis's nose. Temporarily blinded, the vampire couldn't do much to stop O'Dimm escaping his hold.

The master turned toward Regis and Geralt grabbed the master next, trying to pull him away. O'Dimm kicked Regis in his bullet wound and the vampire dropped to his knees again, shying away from the master. O'Dimm pushed backwards, trying to get Geralt off-balance. Twisting around, he gripped Geralt's arm and spun quickly, throwing the hunter into the base of the tree.

He collided hard and couldn't get back up right away. Stars swirling before his eyes he saw the master grip Regis by the throat and throw him to the ground, choking him. Regis raised a clawed hand but O'Dimm gripped his wrist. The vampire tried to stab the master with his other hand, but O'Dimm redirected the hand and forced the sharp claws through Regis's own arm. Regis let out a strangled cry and flailed, trying to get free of the master's grip. Geralt was running out of time. He rose too quickly to his feet and his legs gave out, crashing him to the ground.

 _You have to get up. You need to get up now. Regis is going to die._

Geralt staggered but rose to his feet, running unsteadily toward the fight. O'Dimm fired a blast of energy at Geralt and the hunter just barely spun out of the way. O'Dimm rose to his feet and in a burst of strength, lifted Regis by his neck. Screaming monstrously, O'Dimm threw Regis over the edge of the cliff.

"No!" Geralt roared and dove into O'Dimm again, throwing a few punches and stabbing a thumb into the master's eye. Rolling away, Geralt ran to the edge.

Regis was hanging on the edge of the cliff, his claws dug in weakly to the side of the rock.

Suddenly a deafening burst erupted from the column of light in the distance and rippled its way to the cliff. The whole place shook and a glowing light began in the chasm. The ground of the chasm began to open and swirled in a sickly green rush of color.

"My town!" O'Dimm screamed, staring down into the abyss that was starting to swallow everything. He rushed at Geralt and the hunter locked in combat with him. They struggled to kick the legs of the other, trying their hardest to bring each other down.

"You've destroyed everything!" O'Dimm hissed, "I will bring you down with me."

Geralt was strong, but O'Dimm was stronger. He dragged the both of them to the edge that looked down into the green abyss. He was trying to throw them both into the chasm. He forced Geralt to have his back to the edge and kept pushing him closer. Over O'Dimm's shoulder, Geralt could see Regis struggling to keep his hold on the cliffside.

Despite his efforts, Geralt could not stop O'Dimm pushing him backwards. There was no stopping him. Geralt locked eyes with O'Dimm and pushed back as hard as he could mere feet from going over. Dropping onto his butt, Geralt leaned back, O'Dimm's effort to push forward carrying him over Geralt. The hunter rolled back, curling his legs to aid in shoving O'Dimm over his head and over the side of the cliff.

O'Dimm caught a rock a few feet into the chasm and stopped his fall, but not for long. The rock was beginning to loosen and he had no hope of gripping another rock. Geralt staggered to his feet and looked at O'Dimm. Over this side was Geralt's whole reward. The entire contract was dangling by a stone. Dead or alive, it didn't matter, but no body meant no reward. If O'Dimm slipped or the rock fell, everything Geralt had worked for was going to be gone. The reward was going to set him up for life. If he hoped to settle somewhere, he couldn't let O'Dimm fall into the abyss.

O'Dimm's evil eyes locked with Geralt's and bore into his soul.

 _He'll snare you in bonds eyes glowin' afire…_

Geralt's glare softened and he made his choice.

"The stars have expired, O'Dimm, your time is up," Geralt replied calmly and he turned away.

The cliff shook and O'Dimm roared a terrible roar, but Geralt was busy rushing to the other side of the cliff and dropping to his knees, catching Regis's wrist as the rock he was holding broke away.

Regis's eyes lit up in surprise at not plummeting to the ground.

"Geralt?"

"Climb!" The hunter commanded, gritting his teeth in pain at holding the vampire.

Regis did as he was told and began to climb unsteadily, his own pain making the ascent difficult. As Regis reached the top, the both of them collapsed in exhaustion. The column of light exploded and went out suddenly and the chasm burst in green flames, pulling O'Dimm in. The town was gone, the chasm detonated, turning the whole sky so bright that Geralt and Regis dove onto one another-each trying to protect the other from certain annihilation.

As suddenly as the burst came, it was gone. The sky lightened, all violent sounds stopped, and silence washed over the cliff and now-empty valley. Geralt poked out his head and began to hear the return of night sounds: insects, a distant wolf, the wind quietly rippling through the now-normal chasm. Everything was normal.

Regis looked down at where Geralt held his hand and slowly let go. The vampire looked to the chasm and became somber.

"Your reward…" he replied softly, standing up with difficulty and brushing the dirt off his vest, "You lost O'Dimm because of me. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I didn't have much choice. He was falling off the edge."

Regis looked over the cliffside back toward where the town was and strained to see the rebels making their way away from the valley.

"You did have a choice. You could have let me fall and pull him up."

Geralt stood up too, trying to meet Regis's eyes, "You're right. I did have a choice."

Regis shifted nervously, "You did all this to help us...what if O'Dimm would have called your bluff?"

"I'm good at bluffing."

"You're really not," Regis laughed.

"Took a risk," Geralt shrugged, "He fell for it."

Regis debated letting it go, but decided against caution. "O'Dimm sees through lies like that. The only way he would have let such a conversation take place for as long as he did was if he was absolutely certain that you were indeed willing to participate in the transaction."

Geralt didn't reply.

"Geralt...were you-why did you come for me?"

"You know why."

Regis let out a laugh. Now that the fight was over, the pain and weariness was evident on Regis's face. Geralt looked him over and saw how tortured the vampire had been, and now the injuries he gained during the fight were weighing on him.

"We need to get you out of here," Geralt decided, standing up weakly.

"Me?" Regis laughed, gesturing to the blood all over Geralt's clothes, "I'm not the only one sustaining some serious injuries. You forget-I'm a doctor. I know what is serious and what isn't."

"You're stubborn first and a doctor second. Shut up and let me see."

Geralt looked Regis over, but the vampire was busy scanning Geralt with his eyes.

Regis's arm was bloody and was healing very slowly, but it would heal. The leg that the bullet had passed through wasn't doing as well. Geralt had to get the vampire to help.

Regis's eyes lingered on Geralt's shoulder. He knew the bullet wound must be hurting terribly. Geralt could heal quickly, but not as quickly as Regis by any means, and not terribly well from a rifle bullet. The wound on his chest bled pretty profusely, but was not deep.

"Let's go," Geralt commanded, trying to help Regis to his feet, "Lean on me."

X

The pair passed through where the town used to be. Nothing remained of the buildings that had been here hours ago. The jailhouse was gone, the sheriff's office was gone, Regis's office was gone, everything was missing. Even the saloon. The harsh inhabitants that could hide behind O'Dimm's protection had fled at the first sign of trouble. Not even the horses remained. Well, all but one were gone.

Roach, spotting her owner trotted up to the pair, snorting happily.

Regis had limped the distance, but he was growing weak, and so was Geralt. The hunter pushed Regis into the saddle and struggled to climb up behind him.

"Come on, girl," Geralt clicked his tongue and dug his heels in.

The horse shot off for the stretch of trees. The only structure Geralt knew would still exist was one of the places from before Gullet. Roach brought them to the farm quickly and Geralt dismounted quickly, his legs shaking at the jarring motion. He reached up and pulled Regis down. The vampire was beginning to lose consciousness.

"Stay with me, Regis," Geralt cooed, "We'll get you some help."

Geralt, feeling the agony of Regis leaning on his hurt shoulder, staggered toward the ruin and brought Regis into what remained of the old farmhouse. He sat Regis on the ground propped against a half-wall and began searching the place for any supplies he could use.

Spots began forming behind Geralt's eyes as he scoured the property for plants, linens, anything he could salvage. He blinked to clear them. He couldn't pass out now. He had to help Regis. After everything, he couldn't lose him. Walking was becoming harder. He was also growing colder. The front of Geralt's shirt was soaking in blood.

 _The cut couldn't be bleeding this much,_ Geralt thought to himself.

Peeling his shirt away, he saw the gash across his chest and concluded that indeed, this much blood couldn't be from the cut. Then he saw his shoulder. The wound had reopened and had been pouring blood. The bullet hole had torn in the fight and was much wider than it had been. Geralt clamped a hand against the spot and held it. With that much blood gone, he would pass out soon.

He had to act fast.

He went back to Regis to check on him. The vampire had fallen unconscious and his head hung limp, but he was still alive. Geralt made for the woods. He needed something, anything. Geralt stumbled around the woods, unable to make his eyes focus appropriately in the low light. He had long since let go of his shoulder and his legs were growing weak. He nearly fell twice, and found himself resting against a tree. He considered going back to Regis and just holding him in their final moments, but he was unwilling to let the vampire go.

A sound in the woods made Geralt stop. He turned and saw a bunch of approaching shapes.

One of them said his name, and then he passed out.


	10. He Rides Into The Sunset

Regis's eyes fluttered open and he found himself staring at the tops of trees. The sky was blue and birds sang. The gentle wind ruffled his hair and smelled like mossy earth.

 _I'm dead,_ Regis concluded.

He hadn't seen a real bird in a long time. The town was in a sort of bubble, and things were never quite right. Animals there were there because O'Dimm said so. Free-flying birds didn't serve a purpose for the master, so they simply were not there. Regis was slowly becoming aware of a gnawing pain throughout his body. If he had died, why could he still feel?

He looked down and saw bandages on his leg. Looking to one side, his arm had been bandaged tight and wrapped close to his body. Then he became vaguely aware of a pressure on his other hand. Turning the other way, he saw the hunter lying on a makeshift cot next to him. Geralt was covered in bandages and was snoring lightly, his breathing slightly ragged. Their hands were joined.

He smiled softly and squeezed Geralt's hand. Through his sleep, the hunter tensed slightly, squeezing back.

"Regis?"

The vampire turned and saw Triss Merigold approach the cot.

"Triss," Regis replied back softly. "You came back."

She nodded, smiling softly.

"We saw a green glow coming from the chasm. Then it all went away. We all thought...we didn't think anyone was going to make it but...we decided to wait in the forest. In case."

"Thank you," Regis smiled again, lying his head back on the cot. "Will he be all right?"

"Yeah, you both will need time to recover, but you both will pull through. It was touch and go for a while. Some of the rebels moved on. Some to settle scores with other townsfolk, others to just find their way. Cicera is still here. So is Dandelion. The last left yesterday."

Regis nodded, "How long have we been out."

"Two days."

"Regis?"

Dandelion jogged into view, throwing down the firewood he had been carrying. The fair-haired rebel trailed behind him, carrying a much larger pile of wood.

"Is Geralt awake?"

"Not yet, it seems," Regis replied softly.

Dandelion's face fell, then he quickly smiled again, apologetically this time, "Sorry. I'm happy you're awake, Regis."

"I understand. I'm anxious for him to wake up too."

X

Regis crouched at the edge of the stream. He cupped his hands in the water, careful not to disturb his arm too much. Splashing the water up into his face, he let out a sigh at the refreshing feeling. He cupped his hands once more, bringing them up to his face to drink. He felt someone quietly approach behind him then heard the person stop. The footsteps were so soft, if not for Regis's impeccable hearing, he would have missed it. It could only be one person.

He stood, feeling a gnaw in his leg at the movement. Turning, he locked eyes with the white-haired hunter.

Stubble was forming on his face after several days neglecting to shave.

A blanket was wrapped around his shoulders and his torso was carefully bound in bandages. His one arm was pinned in a sling, much more secure than the last one. He shifted from foot to foot and averted his eyes a moment before looking back to the vampire.

"Hello, Geralt," Regis replied, tipping his head in greeting.

"Regis," Geralt replied quietly.

Regis wiped his wet hands on his trousers and walked up to the hunter.

Geralt moved forward and pressed a hand to Regis's cheek.

Regis touched Geralt's chest with a tenderness that was surprising. The doctor wanted to touch and be close to him, but he also wanted to check his wounds.

"I thought…" Geralt paused and Regis met his eyes, "When he took you, I knew that I had made a huge mistake."

"You were right to be cross with me. I knew I should have been honest, but I didn't expect to feel what I had. I was afraid you would turn me away if you knew what I was."

"And I did," Geralt admitted.

Regis dropped his hand from Geralt's chest.

"I think I used it as an excuse," Geralt continued, "I wasn't mad you were a vampire. I don't even think I was really mad that you didn't tell me. I think I just wanted an excuse to not be with you."

"Oh."

"Because you scare me."

Regis quirked a brow. "Oh?"

"When I'm with you...and even when I'm not…" Geralt sighed, wrapping his hand around Regis's waist and pulling him closer. "When I'm away from you, I want to be back with you again. And when I'm with you…"

He stared deep into Regis's eyes and saw the light sparkle in the vampire's dark eyes. The same flicker of understanding that he saw on the cliffside. Regis knew, and he didn't need words to say so.

Geralt leaned in and kissed Regis.

Regis melted into the kiss, wrapping both arms around Geralt's strong shoulders and pulling him close. Their chests pressed together and they pulled closer still. Neither could get enough of the other. They each wanted to become joined as one. They were careful of each other's injuries but passionate in their entwining.

Geralt wished he hand both hands to hold the vampire to him, but Regis made up for the loss as he gripped him close. Geralt's tongue slid across the sharp fangs in Regis's mouth and he moaned against the kiss. Gripping him tight, Regis eased Geralt to the ground and pushed him onto his back, careful of the injured shoulder.

Regis pressed his lips to the only bare skin on Geralt's stomach, kissing him gently.

Geralt smiled and closed his eyes, stroking Regis's hair with his free hand. Regis kissed his way up to Geralt's mouth again and his hands found his way to Geralt's belt. He undid the buckle and pulled the belt off, tossing it away.

"Come with me," Geralt pleaded.

"Well, I certainly hope to," Regis replied, wiggling his eyebrows as he unbuttoned Geralt's trousers.

Geralt paused a moment as the joke set in and he shook his head, trying not to laugh. Regis laughed and began unbuttoning his own vest.

"I mean it," Geralt added, lifting his free arm to rest his head on. "When we leave. Come with me."

"Geralt, my love, I would follow you anywhere," Regis replied, leaning up and kissing Geralt, "Besides, I am currently homeless, it would appear."

Geralt ignored the joke and stared, dreamy-eyed up at the vampire. "I love you."

The statement surprised the vampire and he paused, then shrugged his vest off. "I love you. I really genuinely do. It's sort of...surprising how easily the words come. I do. I love you, Geralt."

Geralt smiled, "Okay, you don't have to be _that_ surprised."

"Mmm, you make it difficult sometimes."

"Shut up. Kiss me."

Regis did as he was told, then smirked mischievously.

"Now," the vampire began, "Where were we?"

In the clearing, Geralt's belt sat in the grass. The sun poked through the trees, casting light on the belt and making the wolf on the buckle wink.


End file.
